Tag: Studly Doright

A No-Spoilers, Non-Review of Avengers Infinity War

A list of ten reasons to see Avengers Infinity War:

1) Lots of amazing storylines that even I could keep straight.

2) Chris Hemsworth-This man. Whoa!

3) Chadwick Bozeman-Yum.

4) Chris Pratt–adopt him or make out with him? Decisions, decisions.

5) Danai Gurira–I love her in The Walking Dead, and even more so in the Black Panther films. She’s not even a superhero, just a badass gorgeous woman.

6) Letitia Wright–she stole the Black Panther film with her adorable brilliance. Her character doesn’t get to show her quirky side in this film, but you know it’s hiding just beneath the surface.

7) Peter Dinklage–Tyrion Lannister supersized!

8) Everyone else–what a cast.

9) Not a single dull moment.

10) Special effects–amazing. It takes a lot to thrill me with special effects nowadays, but this film did just that. Dr. Strange alone is a marvel (see what I did there?)

I didn’t mention to Studly Doright that I was going to see this film yesterday. His sciatica won’t let him sit through a movie at the theatre, so let’s just keep this secret between ourselves, shall we?

Peace, people!

Carabelle

At this time of year in the Florida panhandle there seems to be something fun going on every weekend. On Saturday morning I had a tough time choosing between events, but decided I needed a bit of the coast, which led me to Carabelle, Florida’s Riverfront Festival.

Usually Carabelle is just a place I pass through on my way to St. George Island or Apalachicola. Maybe I’ve purchased gas there, but that’s about it. Today I walked around and sampled some of the foods and did a bit of shopping before returning home to Doright Manor.

The engineer discouraged me from riding the train.

I intended to bring Studly some kettle corn, but forgot. Maybe a photo will suffice.

Fried foods and more fried foods:

A beer bottle cap lobster:

Nothing exciting happened, but it was a pleasant way to spend my day.

Peace, people!

O Canada!

On Thursday night I was bedeviled by a bout of insomnia. I’d broken a cardinal rule and continued reading well past what I’ve come to think of as the “sleep tipping point.” It’s that point when I can feel my eyelids drooping and my breaths relaxing into the rhythms of sleep.

If I’d put the kindle down in that moment I’d have been fine, but no. I was reading James Comey’s book, A Higher Loyalty, and had just gotten to the period of time following trump’s inauguration. There was no way I could stop. Soon I was wide awake and had swung in the opposite direction of the sleep tipping point.

Studly Doright’s sciatic pain awakened him around 11 p.m., so he went to the den to try resting on the couch for awhile. I finished the book just before midnight, and my brain was churning furiously. I checked my phone–another bad decision, but what the heck? I wouldn’t be sleeping for awhile anyway.

WordPress had a message for me. It said my stats were booming. “Well, well, well,” I thought. “Finally hit the big time.”

Actually, since this wasn’t my first rodeo that thought never crossed my mind at all. I reckoned, and rightly so, that someone had found my blog and had taken the time to read more than one post. I love it when that happens. I always picture someone very much like me sitting somewhere in the world making connections through our shared experiences.

When I looked on my stats page I saw this graphic:

Clearly someone from Canada liked my blog well enough to read 75 different posts. Whoever you are, thank you. This is for you.

https://youtu.be/-98Jg_4p_O8

Game Show Ponderings

Recently I submitted an online application to Ellen DeGeneres’s Game of Games television show. I answered a few simple questions, hit send, and promptly forgot about it. Then last week I received an email from someone on Ellen’s staff asking me to submit a brief video audition.

I hadn’t checked my email until late in the day and had only a few minutes to shoot something before their deadline. My audition was a very bland production, and I am sure it will get no farther than the first level of examination, but it was fun to briefly consider how I might fare on the show. I already had the grand prize of $100,000 spent several different ways.

If you’ve never seen the show, Ellen’s Game of Games is a hoot. Contestants compete in physical and/or mental challenges with the winner of each game advancing to a general knowledge round. The winner of that round goes on to play Hot Hands in which they must quickly identify people or objects that appear briefly on a screen. I’ve been practicing Hot Hands using Ellen’s app on my iPhone. I’m absolutely awful at it, but that’s another story.

Years ago I auditioned for Jeopardy. I didn’t make it past the first rounds, but a friend did and made it on to the show. Likewise, I passed the preliminary round for Who Wants to be a Millionaire, but wasn’t selected to be on the show. Maybe I’m just not cut out to be a game show contestant. Perhaps I lack charisma. Naw, that can’t be it.

Last night I was watching Family Feud and considering which family members I might choose to play with me. My kids and Studly? My sisters-in-law? Decisions, decisions. Given my record of not being selected I guess it’s all an exercise in futility.

What about you? Have you ever been chosen to be a contestant on a game show? What shows do you see yourself auditioning for? I’m going to go practice Hot Hands again just in case I get the call.

Peace, people.

Huey Lewis, I’d be a Fool for You (Again)

I once spent about half a minute conversing with myself in a mirror. Yes, I was rather inebriated, and yes, it was quite late, but I suppose neither of those are good excuses.

Studly Doright had taken me to see Huey Lewis and the News in concert at the Amarillo Civic Center. At that time in our lives we weren’t able to go out often. We had two small children and almost no disposable income, but we’d scrimped and saved enough for the concert because Studly knew that I needed to see Huey in person.

After the concert we met friends at a club in Amarillo where I had a drink, maybe two. In those days, I was literally and figuratively a lightweight when it came to drinking and it didn’t take much to get my skinny self drunk.

The DJ, ensconced in his booth high above the crowd, wasn’t playing anything I liked, so I wrote a request for a Huey Lewis song on a slip of paper and then navigated around and through an energetic knot of dancers on the floor to offer up my request. But I couldn’t figure out how to deliver my piece of paper to the guy in the booth.

Looking around I spied a friendly, albeit concerned looking woman and asked, “Where do I put this?” indicating my request.

Oddly enough, she asked me something at the same time, and when I bent forward to try to hear her better I bonked my forehead on a mirror and only then realized I’d been talking to myself. I compounded my error by apologizing.

“Ha! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were me!”

“No problem,” I replied, giggling.

Of course a couple dancing by caught the gist of this whole exchange and gave me a wide berth as they navigated around the dance floor. I can’t say that I blame them. I finally located the proper request slot and enjoyed the rest of my evening, basking in the memory of Huey.

Huey Lewis is still one of my favorites, and I’ve gotten to see him and the News in concert a few times through the years. Huey has recently contracted an illness that’s caused partial deafness and resulted in a cancellation of his tour for the foreseeable future. For a musician this has to be devastating. I’d go talk to myself in a mirror again in front of a crowded dance floor if I thought it would help. Maybe he just needs a new drug.

https://youtu.be/N6uEMOeDZsA

Peace, people.

Could it be Prosopagnosia?

Remember back when you were a small child and someone, maybe a parent, perhaps a teacher, assured you that at some point you would discover your God-given talent? I do. And I’m still waiting. It’s not that I’m without any talents, it’s just that none of them seem worth developing.

For example, I still remember a license plate number my California cousins and I memorized when we were pre-teens. We were sitting outside a bank in Porterville, CA, waiting for my uncle to return from making a deposit when a man carrying an honest-to-goodness money bag hurried out of the building. We decided he was robbing the bank and memorized the number on his pickup truck. U19 671. I’m still prepared to testify as an eye witness some 50 years after the fact.

I also know the differences between four stroke and two stroke engines and can describe their respective firing sequences. In addition I can explain baseball’s infield fly rule and the reasoning behind it. And when given a multiple choice test on just about any subject I’m more likely to pass than to fail. Whoopee!

There are a great many more things, though, that I have no talent for. The one that’s driving me crazy right now is my inability to recognize faces, specifically faces of famous people; although, I often joke that I even make Studly Doright wear a name tag when he returns from a lengthy business trip.

I’ve been playing Ellen DeGeneres’s Hot Hands game on my iPhone lately. In this game one must try to call out the names of a succession of celebrities within a limited amount of time. I simply cannot do it. Tom Hanks becomes “Bob, Jim, Um, Rob!” Likewise Madonna becomes “Bob, Jim, Um, Rob?!” So do Oprah Winfrey, Sandra Bullock, and Denzel Washington.

As a result of playing this game I’ve come to believe I have a mild version of a condition know as prosopagnosia.

Prosopagnosia is a neurological disorder characterized by the inability to recognize faces. Prosopagnosia is also known as face blindness or facial agnosia. The term prosopagnosia comes from the Greek words for “face” and “lack of knowledge.”

Some folks with the condition can’t even recognize their own faces in the mirror! I’m not that bad, but I swear I’m struck dumb when trying to identify any celebrities. Do you think they’d mind wearing name tags just until I get the hang of the game?

All the Kardashians, or as I like to call them, “Bob, Jim, Um, Rob?”

Peace, people!

March Minimalist Challenge: Whatever Happened to Days 28, 29, 30, and 31?

I have a conscience. That probably comes as a surprise to some of my readers, but it’s true. I’ve dropped the ball many times in my life. Often it was because I was afraid my efforts wouldn’t be worthy, other times it was because I once was a world class procrastinator and would fall so far behind in a task that catching up seemed an impossibility. So I didn’t even try.

Often, it was a combination of both, like the year I was in charge of putting together a scrapbook for the president of our women’s group. I became paralyzed by a lack of creativity, a failure to organize, and I never got it done. I’m still embarrassed and ashamed of myself for letting that group down. I’m not proud of my failings. If I could go back in time I’d put together that damned scrapbook, but all I can do going forward is to be a better person.

So when I found myself struggling to keep up with the March Minimalist Challenge, in part due to Studly’s medical issues and my trip to Illinois, I promised myself I’d finish as soon as possible. Day after day I made excuses for myself. After all, it was only a promise to myself. No one else would really care. But, a promise is a promise. And I’m not the same person I was 35 years ago.

On Thursday I kept my promise. I reorganized the cabinets and drawers in all of our bathrooms at Doright Manor and came up with way more than the 118 items needed to satisfy the challenge for days 28, 29, 30, and 31. Inside one pill bottle alone there were 89 pills (I had taken one of the 90 prescribed and suffered terrible side effects).

It’s not an artistic display, and I didn’t try to add alliteration to the post, but by gum, I finished the challenge. I don’t guess the former president of my old club would like a scrapbook filled with my minimalist challenge photos. Definitely not.

Peace, people.

Studly’s Discovery

As regular readers of Praying for Eyebrowz know, my husband, Studly Doright, has been dealing with a painful sciatic nerve issue. For the past six weeks he has been hobbling around the house, a mere shadow of his normal gregarious self.

While he’s had some relief thanks to epidural injections of steroids and a mixture of medications, my poor Studly is still dealing with a great deal of pain and a severe lack of sleep. I’m in awe that he’s remained even-tempered throughout this ordeal. I’d have been throwing things and cursing a blue streak if our conditions were reversed.

But there have been some bright spots. Studly’s inability to sleep has led him to watch television at all hours of the day and night. That’s how he discovered and then introduced me to The Zoo on the Animal Planet network.

The Zoo is a behind the scenes look at the Bronx Zoo, and it’s an enthralling series. As I write this, a snow leopard named Leo is undergoing a root canal. I’ve also watched a pair of Bengal tigers attempt to mate and a rhinoceros get an ultrasound. I’ve become a huge fan.

My Studly, who isn’t into travel, actually thinks we need to visit the Bronx Zoo sometime in the near future. I’m not going to argue with him, but first we need to fix that sciatica. On that front, we’re probably looking at surgery. Ugh.

In the meantime, here’s a video from The Zoo.

https://www.thewrap.com/animal-planet-zoo-elephants-tuberculosis-tb-grooming-exclusive-video/

Sunday, Boring Sunday

My feet never even left Doright Manor yesterday. I slept in until 9 a.m., had a Kind breakfast bar and a cup of coffee with Irish cream while simultaneously watching MASH reruns and reading The Dark Tower VII. I think I even took a nap. The morning just flowed over and around me like a lazy river.

Studly Doright played golf on Sunday morning after being sidelined for over a month by sciatic pain and returned home in time to enjoy watching the final round of the Masters golf tournament with me. I’m not a golfer, but I grew up watching tournaments on tv with my dad, and watching the Masters is akin to seeing a painting come to life in real time. The beautiful course at Augusta testing the skills of the best players in the world is always a thrill.

Now we plan to spend the evening catching up on The Walking Dead. I’ll drink a glass of wine, or two. Then it’s off to bed. Maybe I’ll be less boring tomorrow.

Peace, people.

Do the Wave

Friday was pretty low-key around Doright Manor. I caught up on the laundry, and we took Studly Doright for a second epidural for his sciatic pain. He’s hoping that this second round will allow him to embark on his annual men’s golf trip later this month. Fingers crossed.

I decided to cheer him on by doing the wave, but a one woman wave isn’t all that effective. In fact, it’s downright idiotic. So I enlisted members of the animal kingdom to assist me. It’s still fairly idiotic, but you have to admit that animals caught in the act of waving are pretty cute.

Peace, people!