Memoirs – Page 7 – The Hermits' Rest

No Fun Being Sickly

Nope. It ain’t fun. But at least I diagnosed myself correctly!

So, my thyroid numbers were low and my metabolism was, shall we say, sloth-like. I had a low heart rate, was tired a lot, etc. So the Physicians Assistant I go to started me on medication, the standard dosage. Starting about five weeks ago, I took it correctly every morning before eating, and was proud of myself.

About two weeks ago, I started having a sore throat. I chalked it up to allergens or something. When the time came to renew the prescription, I wrote the PA and mentioned the sore throat, in case it might be my thyroid. He said it was probably just what was going around.

What I knew was that I’d experienced an inflammation in my thyroid before. I was trying to prove to my kids’ dad that I could be all thin and athletic. I rode my fancy bike every day and impressed myself with my weight loss. I looked hot, for me. But I had a sore throat. Sure enough it wasn’t just the exercise making me lose weight. It was my thyroid going into overdrive. Dang.

I got all fixed up from that and was ok and thin (but not athletic enough to keep the spouse). Then I started experiencing horrible and weird pains (while the spouse was off cycling in the Italian Alps and meeting his buff future wife). It turned out the sudden weight loss had broken my gall bladder. It was not my best year. At least the spouse waited to move out until I recuperated from removing it. I appreciate that!

The point behind this trip up and down the Alps of memory lane is that I know what an inflamed thyroid feels like. That’s now established, as well as my lack of bile regulation.

Last night I had trouble sleeping, so I decided my throat pain was probably not some virus. I peered into it with my phone flashlight and didn’t see signs of strep. So I went back to the local clinic.

Thankfully, the other practitioner listened to me. She also felt my throat. That hurt. But yes! I DO have thyroiditis. The plan is to reduce the dose of the thyroid hormone so I won’t be a sloth but I won’t be zipping around either.

I’ll go back next week to reevaluate my precious glands. If it isn’t better, I get an ultrasound.

Hurry up, Mabel. She wants to exercise me.

Send me good vibes! I do not enjoy being sick. It’s been really hard trying to get the horses exercise, between the heat and the pain. They are sweet and patient as we do maneuvers at a walk on the hard, cracked dirt. But we aren’t exactly having fun.

I’m not having fun and you aren’t even riding me.

I do feel vindicated. I was not being a hysterical woman. I really am a bit out of whack (physically). We know I’m a pretty whacky person mentally!

Through the Woods We Go

Today’s travel day took me and Lee from Baton Rouge, Louisiana to Valdosta, Georgia. Before we left, I got in a walk to a park behind the hotel, where I saw a couple of interesting plants, many non-native. I also enjoyed watching dozens of high school baseball players getting ready for a national tournament. No wonder it was loud last night.

Much of the day featured interstate highways through commercial forests. It took longer than we expected, because there was construction and a big delay due to a horrible accident where a semi truck appeared to have slid sideways a long way off the road. Not a happy start.

Occasionally I got to see some non-forests, like in Mobile and other coastal places. Mostly it was trees. Good thing I like them.

I worked much of the day, including before and after the drive, but I got a lot of knitting done, too. This little jumping spider decided to join me and hop all over my project. I sure enjoyed watching it moving its eyes and mouth and checking things out with all those legs. I think it was a paradise jumping spider (Habronattus coecatus) but I’m not sure.

The trip got more interesting when the GPS took us off the interstate near Quincy, Florida. We then embarked on a magical hour or so traveling through small towns and beautiful rural properties of north Florida and South Georgia.

We went through long stretches of road where it seemed like the trees were reaching out toward us to envelop us in green. With the draping moss, the overgrown old homesteads being taken over by immense crape myrtles, and the wooden fences…I felt like I was in one of my dreams of being home. I was so entranced in the deep woods that I forgot I had a camera. It was so Gothic. There was even mist rising from bogs. This is some beautiful country.

It’s places like this, far from my everyday world, that remind me of why the Deep South is so beloved by people from there, despite the legacy of hardship for so many, despite societal changes. It’s so peaceful, quiet, and still. It engulfs you.

And here we are in small-town civilization (Valdosta)

Tomorrow we see more of Georgia before heading through South Carolina. Some of the trip will feature back roads. But today created plenty of moody memories to get me through boring highways and lookalike suburbs.

My Favorite Luxury

What’s the one luxury you can’t live without?

Ha ha, today’s blog prompt has saved me from posting a picture of a caterpillar and a horse, and that’s it. Now I can answer this! I’m not averse to luxury, I have to say, but I don’t need it to be happy. Well, perhaps I need the expensive horses for my sanity…

That’s right, she needs me and my vet bills, body work, dental work, training, and supplements. Because I’m fun. (Apache is getting bodywork in this photo, with Jackie hiding behind him.)

But I think the luxury I need the most is my nail polish. I think I’ve loved nail polish as long as I’ve loved horses. Mmmmm. Nails.

I just love changing out my nails and growing them long. It’s like they’re a crop I grow for myself then make decorative. I guess there are reasons why I’ve always kept my nails fancy, even though I don’t see myself as fancy (just well coordinated).

When I was a kid, I had anxiety (duh) though I think we said I was nervous. I bit my nails to calm myself. The whole family pointed out how awful this was (though it was apparently fine that my brother bit his and as far as I know still does). I hated that I bit my nails but I sure loved it.

The women of the family prided themselves on nails. Natural nails. My grandmother on Mom’s side had long, painted nails. My mom always had beautiful red nails. My much older half sister always had really long nails painted a shade of mauve I hated. Okay, Granny Kendall bit her nails, and patted me while she said I had little stubby fingers , just like hers. She was a wonderful woman, but I didn’t want stubby fingers. I wanted to look elegant.

So, when I was ready for high school, which was a new start for me with mostly new people, I decided I’d try to have polished nails for the first day of school. I managed to grow my nails for three weeks by knitting and crocheting a lot to keep my hands busy. I had red nails for the first day of school. And a popular boy said they looked nice!

I never bit a nail again. By the end of 9th grade I had talons. It took me a while to learn to keep them a reasonable length. And oh wow, did I change colors a lot. My friend Lynn and I must have spent all our tiny allowances on cheap nail polish. Well, it kept us out of trouble.

I did go through a few years with no polish, but not many. I just like it. I did do gel nails for a year or so, but I had to stop when I realized it was messing up my nails big time. So, it was back to Essie and OPI, which lasted much longer than 1970s polish. Until a friend had a Color Street “party” or whatever those are called. It used to be Nail Bars.

Yeah. Nail polish strips with glitter, flowers, ombré effects and more were right up my alley. There are other similar brands, but these are made in the US and have great quality control. This luxury is a lot less than going to a salon. So I’m sticking with them.

They do have calm, solid colors. I just never pick those.

That’s enough advertisement for something I don’t get paid to endorse. I’m not a great influencer, I guess. But if you’d like to learn more, use this shopping link (through the end of June) and order a set. Or I can hook you up with a free sample. Again, this is just because I like the product.

In other news, both my horses are doing well, according to Jackie, who worked on them today. We had a good talk about stuff we gave to improve on for horse shows and promised to film each other if we can (we are in the same class, so we often are warming up or unsaddling when the other is riding).

I shared this lady week but our happy faces are worth sharing again. We were glad we survived.

We were thrilled that there was a breeze and it was a little cloudy today. It’s very hot already.

I did see some nature! This feller will grow up to be a gorgeous white spotted salt marsh moth. It was on a dandelion.

I Collect Collections

Do you have any collections?

Todays blog prompt made me lol. Do I have any collections? Afraid so. And it started early. Heck I still have some of the first things I ever collected, porcelain horses from my grandfather, as I mentioned recently.

There’s one more, but her leg needs to be repaired.

I come by this honestly. I love sorting and categorizing things, as did my mom. I guess it kept me out of trouble as a kid! I was so busy organizing piggy banks, making card catalogs for my books and lining up my Hot Wheels cars that there was no time to get in trouble.

One of two childhood piggy banks I still have.

So, I declare that collections are healthy and only a problem when you think they’re a problem. No, I’m not a minimalist.

I have collected things with pansies on them for decades. They still make me smile. Mom loved pansies. Mom also had some cool purple glass stuff. I recently shared my purple glass window in the bathroom. Here are teacups.

And there are still more horse statues. And rocks. And nail polish (I need to stop that one). And books, yarn, crystal, wine corks, dogs, horses, ugh. Too much. It makes me happy, sparks joy, or whatever.

If my collections become a problem later in life, I’m sure someone else will enjoy them when they go thrifting. It’s fine with me.

The vet came today. This is our annual reminder that having lots of animals is very expensive. But I’m glad we can avoid certain illnesses, know the dogs don’t have heart worms, and soon will know the horses passed their annual Coggins test.

The dogs were better than usual. That’s not saying much, since four had to be sedated. Goldie had a great time and volunteered to go back in the trailer numerous times, even though she got bonus shots for allergies and her leg sore she won’t stop licking.

Penney, the unstable one, managed to get her shots like a big girl. Harvey still growled through sedation, Alfred got real zonked, Vlassic had to be carried into the trailer, and Carlton was quite a challenge to catch. He even ran off while sedated. But they all did it!

I was too busy helping to take horse photos, but they were troopers, even when the assistant was learning to take blood and give shots. She did great! Mabel was deemed too thin, Apache was too fat, and the other two were just right. I’m glad to get that taken care of for another year.

I had an injured toenail. Who knew? All fixed.

Rainy Day Memories

We are still going through boxes from my old house. Lee has been bringing up things from deeper and deeper in the past. For example, he brought in a box I instantly recognized. It was a shoebox covered in contact paper that looked like wood.

I used to love woodgrain contact paper. I covered a dorm fridge and a wall telephone in it while in college.

The box contained my high school diaries, 1972-1975. See why it’s no surprise I like to write blog posts? I’ve always loved journaling. There have been very few years of my life that didn’t have journals, diaries, or some record.

Deep stuff in here (actually, remarkably little deep stuff and remarkably many boring details of what happened in my classes)

I remember writing these diaries and I remember that everyone I knew was aware that I did. What I didn’t remember until I opened the later diaries was that I wrote them in Spanish. As I posted on Facebook, not only did I protect my family from reading it, but also future me.

From my reading of the exciting year of 1974, I came to a couple of conclusions about teen Suna. One, she was driven by hormones. I sure read a lot of details about what various young dudes said and did. They apparently spent more time asking each other who they liked than actually dating, however. I was insanely jealous of two girls my “dream date” seemed interested in. On the other hand, I had plenty of hormones left over for numerous high school band members.

In addition to my secondary theme of what Anita and I bought at the mall, I did something that I’m pretty sure I’m still doing today. I wrote things down partially to convince myself that they were true. Every week it was either “Dream Date is NOT for me,” or “I feel all gooey when I look at Dream Date.” I think I tried very hard to convince myself that person wasn’t important at all to me, but I was lying. I mean, shoot, that guy is STILL someone I am dazzled by even though we broke up in 1985 (all my fault).

Just reading the stuff I wrote gives me an impression of myself that isn’t very good. I don’t think I’d have liked me very much. We were all pretty mean to each other, we had horrible nicknames for teachers and fellow students, and we were overly cliquish. I’m glad I’ve spent the last 50 or so years trying to be less of an asshole, even though I still fail at times.

Any Other Memories, Suna?

Yes, I have memories that are less harsh on myself that showed up in these boxes. There were a lot of old photos that somehow missed my anal-retentive storage organization system. I was charmed to find photos of the playhouse my dad and maternal grandfather made for me and my brother when we were little. Those two mathematical geniuses decided to build it with no right angles, anywhere. Oh my gosh they had fun with their protractors and saws. We loved that thing.

The photo of Dad and Pappy working on it is a treasure. I barely remember my grandfather, because he died soon after this,

The playhouse eventually became Dad’s tool shed after he built us a “treehouse” that we used as older kids. The playhouse still stands.

Another creation of my dad’s that I found pictures of the fishpond. He built this himself of his own design. The photos below were right after he finished. Later he added a pump and turned poor Saint Francis into a fountain. Water came out of the bird’s nest he held (Dad also thought it was Saint Frances for many years – hey, the saint had long hair and wore a dress, plus Dad had a sister named Frances). Lucky for Francis, dad later found a cool rock to be the waterfall, and the birdbath went back to its original purpose.

That’s water hyacinth in there, before we realized it was invasive.

That pond was a real thing of beauty and a highlight of our home. We had huge goldfish and catfish Mom had fished out of Newnan’s Lake as babies. Mom’s favorite story was that a little boy came to visit, wandered behind the house and came running up to his dad, saying, “Good God, Daddy, they gots a LAKE in their back yard!”

The back of the house. Notice the pots and pans on the patio. Mom set the leftovers out for Wendy Pace, the neighbor springer spaniel.

On that note, I’ll just share some photos that gave me warm fuzzy feelings. First, it’s no surprise that I like horses. I unpacked my china horses and giant plastic draft horse and this photo of me embarrassing my dad and kids.

And we can’t forget my first dog, Gwynneth. I got her because that’s the kind of dog I thought would fit our family best. That dog sure barked a lot, but we did love her for 15 years. Even when she was blind!

Hail, Hail, the Gang’s All Here

After work and the horses getting bodywork done, Lee and I fired up Seneca and took off for another camping expedition, this time to Cedar Breaks Park, one county over near Georgetown, Texas. We’d camped on the other side of the lake from here before, but never at this site, which is a Corps of Engineers park (yay, free entry with my Senior Pass).

I was really excited about it, because I was going to get to see some of my friends from a previous stage of my life when I did lots of stuff with a Unitarian Universalist Church in Cedar Park. One tradition I really enjoyed were the camping trips they’d do a couple of times a year. We went to some pretty places from the time my kids were little until we got our original RV and camper.

My friend Jennifer (who is a regular reader of our chatty little blog here) has done most of the campout planning for years, and I really appreciate the effort she makes to decide on places and get things lined up. Now that we have Seneca, we can camp again, so we decided to go to the next one she scheduled.

So, here we are! It has been raining off and on all day, which is how Apache managed to roll in muddy spots and turn himself into an Appaloosa horse.

It alternated between sun and rain all the way over here. It was sunny when we went into the grocery store to get supplies, then rained hard while we were inside, then was sunny when we came out. Fun weather.

It stayed fun once we arrived, where Lee impressed the folks who’d also arrived today (official start is tomorrow) by backing into our space like a pro. I reminded the folks that he IS a pro, having driven “big rigs” for a living for a few years.

After hugging Jennifer a ridiculously long time, I caught up with other friends I’ve missed from church and toured everyone’s campsites, RVs and trailers. That was great fun. Our Cameron friends Mike and Martha also came along, as I’ve been camping with Martha as long as I have with Jennifer, since all our adult children were young.

Mike inherited a very cool vintage motorhome a while back and has restored it to functioning again. It’s quite funky and very well designed, I’m so glad he got it up and running so they could join us on this long weekend get together.

My dear friends under the very nice cover each site has

Other excitement for me and Jennifer was identifying a summer tanager using the Merlin’s Bird ID or eBird app, then finding it in a tree. I got blurry photos, but you can tell they aren’t a cardinal. This was a first for us, and it was just wonderful to find it with my very first birding friend!

While I was showing Jen Seneca, we realized the temperature had gone way down, really fast. Yep, the real front was coming through. It was also going through Cameron, and we have reports of frightened dogs at home. Lee and I went inside to watch the weather coverage on TV when BLAM! A boom louder than when Sandy the Squirrel hit the transformer rang out, I texted Martha and Jen. Were they ok?

Yes, they were ok, but lightning had struck a tree right behind the cute vintage motorhome. Mike reported that there was a bit of flame, but it went right out. When it stops raining, we’ll check into the damage. They’re pretty sure the power to their campsite also went out, so they are using generator power. Yow!

I tried to take a picture of the weather. I got raindrops, but it looks interesting!

Next it started hailing. Lee is wishing Seneca was back under the cover at the ranch, but we’re here now enjoying the sounds and the light show. There will probably be more rain this weekend, but hey, I’m on a lake, there are birds and flowers, and more friends come tomorrow.

Just before the rains, this immense flock of gulls flew around and landed in the water, very noisily. Lee saw the whole thing, but I at least saw them milling around in the lake. Best photo I could get.

After the craziness of this week, of COURSE lightning struck!

I’m weird

What is one word that describes you?

This question made me smile. I’ve felt weird my whole life. I made up a club called the Weird Happys (sic.) in middle school and invited all my interesting, smart, non-traditional friends to join.

I’m a weird donkey who escaped after dinner.

I’ve always been weird, non-standard and rather off center. That’s never been a problem except when I wanted someone I found fascinating and atypical to be my friend, but it turned out I wasn’t their kind of weird. Trying to fit in NEVER has worked. I eventually wear out my welcome and am shown the door. Like:

My previous job
My church (was informed I no longer fit their demographic because I liked small, community oriented congregations)
The animal welfare group I helped found (those of you who know, know why)
La Leche League (turns out I’m not a good cult candidate)
The yarn shop friends where I used to teach knitting and crochet (some individuals are still friendly, though)
My book group (they ghosted me!)
My marriage to my kids’ dad
Etc.

I felt bad about these things at the time, but now I realize I don’t need to put my weirdness where it bothers others. I have choices, and it’s better to be true to myself than to try to fit in.

These guys just deal with my weirdness because they have no choice. Awww.

Anyway, my word is weird, and I’m happy now. I’ll enjoy the communities I have now while I can, and move on gracefully when it becomes apparent that I’m not a good fit.

I’ll be as graceful as blue-eyed grass, which appeared this week.

But hey, I still feel accepted by most people in my Master Naturalist group (I don’t expect them to all love me, just to work together). And I’m doing okay in the little horse community I’ve found myself in, thanks to us all loving horses! That’s plenty of folks to be weird around.

I am glad folks accept that I get frustrated when I can’t ID a plant.

Plus, my hobbies and family keep me happy and centered. I can be a Weird Happy!

What’s My Name?

What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning/significance?

This was today’s blog prompt. I know I already wrote today, but wanted to contribute. My name can be difficult!

Who am I? I see my dad when I look in the mirror.

My middle name given at birth is Ann. I’m one of the few people in my immediate family who doesn’t go by their middle name. My dad, mom, brother, sister, maternal grandmother and many of my dad’s siblings go or went by their middle names. My husband does, too.

I go by both my names, Sue Ann (when I’m not Suna, my self-bestowed name). I’m named for Bettye Sue (Aunt Pug) and Doris Ann, my dad’s sisters. I’m glad I got their middle names.

I think I wrote a post once about not calling me Sue. Yes. I did. So, go read that for more. I like having one of those Southern US two-word names. I do like them separated, so it’s vaguely annoying that Dell spelled my name SueAnn in their directory and what show up in email sent to me. It could be worse. Most of my Indian colleagues have some very interesting initials and truncated names in the system. You need to ask what to call them.

Names matter. Find out what people want to be called and pronounce it well. Folks appreciate it.

Don’t Ask Me

What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.

This is the daily blogging prompt. When I saw it, I immediately knew the answer. It’s really hard on me when people ask:

How is your son?

Every time I’m asked, I’m reminded that it’s been years since I heard from him directly. One day he said he needed some time before he’d talk to me again, and that was that. So, I really don’t know how he is, other than indirectly.

Small melilot, bluebonnets, and Indian paintbrush, because I need a picture.

Maybe someday I’ll know what caused the rift. Maybe not. As I’m repeatedly reminded, it’s the estranged person’s right to do what they need to do, and that should be respected.

It’s not at all helpful to speculate about possible reasons for the situation, because I have no way to know. His father won’t talk to me about it, nor will anyone in his household. I’m glad they respect his wishes, and if the situation were reversed, I would be grateful.

When I’m sad, I hug Fiona. She always seems to like me.

Still, I’m human and a mother who loves her children unconditionally. So, it hurts to be asked how my son is doing. I wish him peace and love, and respect his wishes.

And that is my answer to the prompt.

Quiet Times and Ci-ne-ma

Whew, did it rain a lot for the past few days. There’s not much a person with no car can do in a downpour, so I did the thing I’d say I’d do and found myself a plan B. I had Wi-Fi, and the condo place had a DVD rental station, so I’ve taken a few days to be introspective and do something I rarely do: watch a lot of movies.

That puddle had dried up, but not any more!

Why, you ask, don’t I watch a lot of movies very often? Well, this goes back a long way, maybe 50 years or so, when I fell hard for my high-school crush (also my college and most of grad school crush). He was laser-focused on cinema studies, even in high school. He was going to follow in the footsteps of his older brother, who majored in filmmaking at USC. But he wanted to write.

I, too, wanted to write, though I really didn’t care about what. Combine that with friends like Anita, who was also a writer type, and you can imagine how creative and eloquent the notes we passed around in school were. They were also very funny, since we also had cartooning skills in the mix.

Anyway, I figured the way into that guy’s heart was to love what he loved, so I watched lots and lots of movies. When we started dating, pretty much all we did was go to movies. No, not to do a lot of smooching, but to watch and analyze those films. We were fans of ci-ne-ma. You didn’t just go to a movie and enjoy it. Au contraire, you had to analyze the themes, dissect the camera angles, and make sure to note any editing flaws or continuity issues. This was serious business.

For those of you who are bored by my reminiscing, look at this cloud beauty.

It didn’t get any less serious throughout college. He majored in English, with a concentration in cinema studies, and I majored in linguistics with concentrations in cinema and Japanese. Japanese cinema, that was my ticket to academic glory, apparently.

Well, by the time I got partway through my dissertation, which happened to use Japanese movies as its data source, and that relationship ended when I realized I was trying way too hard to mold my life after whatever that other person wanted, leading to regrettable rebellions…let’s just say I was done with the ci-ne-ma. I was over the dolly shots and the search for Marxist themes in every film (to this day, I could not tell you one thing about Marxism, even though I had a child who followed the same philosophical path).

It did finally get more sunny later today.

Sadly, I also could not watch a movie without analyzing it. I’d see one thing that triggered my urge to analyze and I could no longer just be moved by immersing myself into the world of the film. That was not fun. So, I really don’t enjoy movies much anymore, especially old ones where I feel compelled to compare each film to its director’s “ouvre.” Poor Anita. She just wanted to watch Turner Classic Movies and I couldn’t look. High School Boyfriend had not ruined her ability to do ci-ne-ma.

Back to today, I guess all that introspection and shedding of old traumas has gotten me past some of my issues. I do better now, and try to watch movies with Lee. I’m just not good with horror and overly realistic violence, which cuts out a lot of the current movies out there.

Here, alone in my little space, I went out and rented every single rom-com, comedy, and wimpy family movie I could, and I watched them. I let myself get immersed in the story, the music, and the visuals and just had fun. What a gift to myself! I do have a couple of comments on some of the films I watched, though, in case you’re considering any of my wimpy choices:

Jerry and Marge Go Large: I’m not sure if I mentioned this one before, but it’s a lot of fun and based on a true story about people who figured out a lottery loophole. Any story featuring real-life mathematical geniuses and genuinely likable secondary characters is okay with me. ****

Addams Family 2: The animation was great, and the attention to detail in the scenery was wonderful. But that was one predictable plot. **

Jungle Cruise: I had low hopes for a movie based on a theme park ride, but I ended up enjoying all the references to the ride and the cheerfully campy plot. The stunts were fun, too, and it was nice to see the female lead portrayed as competent at jungle skills. The gay brother character was fun, too, as he reminded me of many people I know AND was a badass. This one’s worth watching if you want to just relax and watch something. ***

Elvis: GEEZ the guy who played Elvis nailed it. I love how this movie was made and edited (sorry, getting ci-ne-ma on you), and the soundtrack that mixed music from all eras was inspired. You literally see and hear the history of music since the 1950s in this one. Tom Hanks was creepy, though, as Col. Parker. But the rest of the cast, including the portrayals of influential black musicians, was inspired. The Little Richard guy was riveting. ****

The Lost City: This was way better than I thought it would be from the previews. It’s pretty similar to Jungle Cruise, so don’t watch them together. But this one’s one-liners were way more clever, and I found myself chuckling aloud at some of the asides. Sandra Bullock sure can do comedy. I had a blast watching this. *****

Marry Me: I watched this one with Lee, but I just wanted to say this was charming, sweet, and a perfect rom-com. *****

The Good House: Here’s when I ran out of big hits to watch. This one has nice actors and beautiful scenery, but the plot is a heavy-handed tale of a woman who’s an alcoholic and keeps reciting all the typical thing alcoholics tell themselves. It came out well-intentioned but a bit preachy. Kudos for showing realistic sex between older people. ** 1/2

Walking with Herb: This was literally the last film I could get that wasn’t a cartoon or part of a series I wasn’t interested in. Highlights of this one are the great scenery of Las Cruces and Palm Springs and the golf humor. I like golf humor, which is good, because it balances out the Christianity theme (as a non-Christian, I had to suspend my beliefs). Well, it was a sweetly Christian theme, and it was nice to see the Latino lead characters in a mainstream film. I did tear up at some points, so hey, it was okay. ***

I talked about King Richard, the film about Serena and Venus Williams’s dad in an earlier blog. But, I liked it a lot. ****

My solo time is coming to an end, though, because I’ve got my owl necklace (it’s a Superb Owl) on and plan to go watch the Superbowl with other folks at the little cabana bar downstairs. Then, if I can find transportation, I will head home tomorrow. All cabs are booked. Great. Uber is NOT cheap in advance, so I’m hoping tomorrow morning it will be better.