Great Movie

Last night I clicked on Atlas' movie, "Jamaca Inn" introducing a very young Maureen O'Hara, and the evil Charles Laughton. A movie made in 1939. Great movie. Thanks, Atlas.

Things are pretty quiet around here, and after a game of Scrabble (Bob won, 256-249), we sit around reading blogs until time to go to bed. Bob would probably sit around until midnight reading blogs if I did not nag him that we need to go to bed because we have church in the morning. And we'd like to be bright eyed and bushy tailed for that song service. (snork) (Don't get me started on my opinion of "praise" seven-eleven songs---eleven words repeated seven times, and including more "I"s than thanks or praise to God)

Man, they put Maureen O'Hara through the wringer with that first movie. Ocean swim, horseback riding, hiding in a cave, and being tied up. Yikes. I wonder how old she was when she made that movie, and where was it filmed?

Time to get cleaned up for church. More later.

Update: Later, we ate lunch, and Bob went to Carrollton to check on a Business Continuity drill. It got up to 83 degrees inside the house, and I was watching the weather websites and saw that the cold front was almost here...so we played Scrabble Sunday night, and Bob bingo-ed twice and beat me 336 to 233. Ben dropped by to get his mail from Alpine. The wind picked up, and we had to close windows before going to bed.

Our 27th Father's Day?

Youngest son gave his dear old Dad the JOHN ADAMS dvd series. We talked to middle son last night where he described some combat training involving IV needles. And the firstborn called this morning with the grandbaby exercising her lungs in the background. And sure enough, that very busy young father asked, "what do y'all do all day??" For our nest is empty, and at this point in our firstborn's life, he cannot imagine quiet days nor empty hours. Too funny.

I knit. We both blog. Then there are the regular, though shorter tasks of laundry, meals, dishes, grocery shopping. And the Dad still goes to work each day. The grass did not need mowing this weekend, but it will by next Saturday. And every other weekend, I give the Dad a haircut. I'm sorry we were not there to help the firstborn move into a new place.

Twenty-seven years ago, Father's Day took on new significance. And Bob has been blessed with ties, and mostly tools, ever since. I hope Bob remembers to say something to his Sunday School class about Father's Day, but I am afraid to mention it lest I become a Sunday School lesson illustration on nagging.

Happy Father's Day to all the Dads out there. And GrandDADs.