Studly Doright is making progress with his recovery from surgery on his sciatic nerve. He still isn’t sleeping well due to intense nerve pain, but he manages to push through somehow. He’s tough.
Saturday he joined his golf group for lunch where they regaled him with tales from their morning round. He misses golf almost as much as he misses his sleep.
Studly returned home at one, just as a thunderstorm rolled in. He and I both took a much needed nap while the storm raged outside. When he awakened Studly surprised me by asking if I wanted to go to a movie. Well, duh. I ALWAYS want to go to see a movie.
I’d already seen Solo, but Studly hadn’t, so we spent the afternoon in that galaxy far, far away. I enjoyed it more the second time than I did the first, and Studly gave it his seal of approval. Afterwards we enjoyed dinner at a Japanese steak house to round out the evening.
Before the film started, though, our neighbor texted me a picture of a tree that had fallen in our neighborhood. When we returned home we drove passed our home to take a look.
It’s hard to tell from this angle, but the tree fell on top of a trailer loaded with sod, narrowly missing the pickup truck that had been pulling the trailer. We aren’t sure if it was felled by lightning or if our oversaturated ground gave way. Such is life in the forest. Hopefully no one was injured.
Studly went to bed early, hoping to get some sleep. Fingers crossed.
Yesterday I wrote of my intentions to see Solo: A Star Wars Story and of my trepidations. Han Solo, as played roguishly by Harrison Ford in the original trilogy and in the more recent, The Force Awakens, has been the inspiration for many of my romantic sci-fi daydreams over these past forty years.
Han Solo has been my imaginary hall pass. In other words, if Han, as played by Harrison Ford, ever shows up at my door in the Millennium Falcon Studly Doright gives his permission for me to spend some quality private time with the scoundrel. No questions asked. Mighty open minded of my Studly, wouldn’t you agree?
The film, Solo, is set in a time before the original trilogy, taking us back to before Han made his fabled Kessel run in twelve or so parsecs. Obviously Harrison Ford couldn’t play the part of scoundrel Han, having grown too old to play the younger version. I was genuinely concerned about the casting choice of Alden Ehrenreich. In the trailers he appeared too short, too boxy, too callow, too “not Harrison Ford.”
But, I am happy to report that not only is Mr. Ehrenreich a perfect Hal Solo (too young for me to lust over, but that’s okay), but Donald Glover is a fittingly rakish Lando Calrission, and Joonas Suotamo is a marvelous Chewbacca. The entire cast, including Woody Harrelson as the thief/smuggler, Becket, and Amelia Clark (also known as Game of Thrones’s Khaleesi) as young Han’s love interest, Kira, is spot on.
The pacing of the film is reminiscent of Star Wars, A New Hope. It’s fast and fun and chock full of wise cracks and charm and surprises. I was transported back to that world I fell in love with as a young adult.
Now, back to Han Solo. There’s one brief moment in which our young scoundrel is shown in profile, almost a silhouette, and he’s the spitting image of Han as portrayed by Harrison Ford. It almost took my breath away. Han lives on.
Go see the film. Let me know what you think. I’m curious to know if anyone else saw that scene as I did.
I’m off this morning to see the newest Star Wars movie, Solo. Studly Doright can’t go with me due to a silly thing called work, so I’ll be seeing Solo solo.
Studly will want to see it once the new has worn off, so I’m sure I’ll see it more than once.
I’m torn, though. Harrison Ford IS Han Solo, so how can this young whippersnapper, Alden Ehrenreich, even dream of stepping into his boots? I’ve got mixed feelings about this.
I’m willing to give him a chance, though, to become the scruffy looking nerfherder I gave my heart to a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. May the Force be with him. And with all of us.
As I journey deeper into February with the Minimalist Challenge, I’ve begun to realize how much I cling to certain unnecessary things: empty boxes, shopping bags, expired spices. Ridding myself of those kinds of items, though, caused me little to no angst. Today’s choices, by comparison, almost made me cry.
I’m a Star Wars geek, having lost count of the number of times I’ve watched episodes IV, V, and VI. And during the desolate years between the film Return of the Jedi (episode VI) and the prequel series beginning with The Phantom Menace (episode I), I consoled myself by reading books about the Star Wars universe.
The collection pictured above is but a drop in my personal Star Wars bucket. The books commence where Return of the Jedi ended and follow the intrepid rebels and their imperial enemies on one adventure after another. Some of the books are outstanding, stand alone novels that would have made great follow up movies to the original series. I fervently hoped the story lines in these George Lucas approved novels would be pursued on the big screen. Alas, the writers and directors went a different route.
I’m going to see if my grandson wants these books. If he doesn’t I’ll donate them to the Goodwill book store. Farewell. May the Force be with them.
Shades of Joan Crawford! No more wire hangers! Okay, I still have roughly two dozen more, but I might need to beat someone sometime.
Don’t recall the Mommy Dearest reference? Let me refresh your memory:
Tomorrow is day 13, and I need to come up with something spectacular. Any suggestions? Everything except Studly Doright and the cats are expendable. And maybe my Star Wars collection. And my handbags. And boots….
Doright Manor was too quiet this Christmas. Studly Doright and I had gotten together with our kids and grandchildren in Texas at Thanksgiving, so we had to suck it up and spend Christmas without them. I’m going to be honest and tell you, Christmas for just us two isn’t much fun.
We tried to be as festive as possible. We took in a movie on Christmas Eve and then drove around Tallahassee to view the holiday lights, returning home to open gifts from each other. We’d agreed neither of us needed any big gifts this year, so I bought Studly books (he really isn’t a reader, but I always hold out hope), and T-shirts featuring vintage motorcycle brands.
He bought me Star Wars stuff: a Resistance leader’s jacket, a BB-8 handbag, and several pieces of jewelry in the shapes of light sabers and droids. So if anyone in Tallahassee sees a late middle aged woman sporting any of the aforementioned gear, you can be fairly certain it’s me. Say hello and we’ll go find some First Order thugs to put in their place before heading for coffee.
Our dinner on Christmas Day was outstanding, even if I do say so myself. I ran Studly out of the house to work in his shop, opened a bottle of Chardonnay, and made a meal for the ages. I’m a much better cook when fueled by wine, and that’s a fact. Studly went back for seconds and thirds which I took as the highest compliment. And the pecan pie, oh my word! It was one of the best ever. Studly said I was going to have to stop telling people what an awful cook I am.
We went to another movie after dinner, getting home much later than is our norm (10 p.m! Absolutely decadent!) and then spent a quiet post-Christmas Tuesday. I had planned and executed the perfect turkey and cheddar sandwich on soft white bread for dinner, while Studly warmed up the leftover turkey and dressing for a repeat of Christmas Day’s meal.
So, while nothing exciting happened, and we missed being with our children, we had a pleasant holiday. I’m writing this on Tuesday evening and thinking I might have to have one more piece of pecan pie. Wednesday’s post most likely will deal with how none of my pants will button. Exciting stuff. Stay tuned.
While Studly Doright had to work today I took myself to see the newest offering in the Star Wars universe. I’m a big Star Wars fan and can quote much of the dialogue from episodes IV, V, and VI (the original trilogy) by heart. I’ve seen every Star Wars film more than once–even episodes I, II, and III (the second, rather misguided trilogy.)
I’ve been pleased so far with the newer films: Rogue One and The Force Awakens. Unlike the second trilogy these films felt true to the original saga. The gritty Rogue One was especially satisfying after the whole Jar Jar Binks years, and I am totally enamored of the main characters in The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi. Rey, Finn, and Poe are as good as Leia, Luke, and Han.
Now, having said all that, this latest film, while good, and full of great action sequences, special effects, and quick dialogue, felt a little too Disney-esque to me. Don’t get me wrong. I love Disney as much as I love pepperoni pizza. Maybe more, but I don’t want to be distracted by overly cute animals in my Star Wars films or in my pepperoni pizza. And don’t even equate the Ewoks from Episode VI with the cutesy animals in The Last Jedi. Ewoks were warriors!
I’m not saying The Last Jedi wasn’t worth seeing; it just wasn’t as fulfilling as I’d hoped. Maybe I’m jaded. Maybe I’ve grown up. (Studly Doright laughed when I read that out loud.) At any rate, I need to see it again. I’ve got dialogue to memorize. And who knows, maybe those cutesy animals will grow on me.