Good grief! The events of the past two weeks have blurred into what now seems like one very long week. I finally returned to my sweet haven of a sewing studio, but, well, I just couldn’t bear to take one more picture of a pile of unfinished projects. That is to say: The same unfinished projects, with a few more added to the stack. Shhh — you don’t have to say a word; I know it makes no sense. My normally short attention span has been reduced to that of a gnat. I just flit from task to task: fill the dishwasher halfway, stack some fabric for a project, oh! – need to pay the bills- pay one bill, cut out a pattern, have a snack…. Round and round. I’ve actually just started the second load of laundry in a row, though, so maybe that’s a good sign.
Hey, thanks for all the gift suggestions in response to my last post! It was just what was needed to get my brain percolating again.
And on to our next topic, which I would like to subtitle “Hence the Gargantuan Drinks”:
We did sit down long enough to watch the latest Bond flick, which was surprisingly good, and not just in a “tolerate it because my husband, who has been a prince, really wants to watch it” sort of way. The plot was still pretty fantastic, but do you watch James Bond movies for a reality fix? Nah. So it was cool. I’d even watch it again someday. Here’s the problem: It was 144 minutes long.
2 hours and 24 minutes.
Please!! It’s not Gandhi, for Pete’s sake! Doesn’t it seem like movies are getting longer and longer? I can’t stand it. It’s gotten to the point where I pick a movie based on the run-time. 95 minutes? Done and done. Heck, I’ll go to 110! But please, don’t tell me that they couldn’t have possibly edited just a little bit more out of a Bond movie. Trust me — I have a few suggestions. Anyway, now we know why the theaters sell those monstrously large sodas: If you sip very slowly, you might be able to nurse yours til the credits roll.