Good And Full

A good, full day.  Aline called early and I asked if she'd come over so we could have a picture taken together for inclusion in The Breeze with my article on You Can't Take It With You.  She immediately agreed and--a girl after my own heart--suggested we go out for lunch. 
We went to Dockside, where I was taken aback by the decor.  I had noticed during other visits that Dockside was decorated pretty heavily in red, white, and blue, with flags here and there, stars and banners, and light catchers in the windows with various armed forces legends. 
Yesterday, though, they had added a number of large and truly ugly cloth hangings depicting militaristic themes, including a menacing looking group of soldiers advancing in full battle gear.  Even if I wasn't in the mind set of pacifism, I would have found it oppressive.
Left there and came back to my place, where I changed into my play outfit while Aline used my computer.  I had asked Frank D. to come over to take our picture and he took several, with and without wine bottles. 
Changed back and we went to the library so I could hang some flyers.  I must get the non-profit number, though, as they have a new policy for the bulletin board.  Dropped Aline off and went home to finish up some writing chores, then sent them off.  A few hours later, I picked my sidekick up again and we went to rehearsal.
It was a shambles.  As we often do, we had to work around an absentee--in this case, Julie S., who teaches middle school and had another commitment--and the blocking was particularly irksome.  However, my minuscule part went well and I was glad to be there.  We rehearse again tonight.
Took Aline home and settled in to watch the mindless Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives with my w. and p.  What I like about "Triple D," as the host calls it, is that each and every "spontaneous" visit to restaurants across the country is exactly the same.  Guy Fieri(?) describes the place and interviews its patrons, all of whom attest that the food is sublime.  He then goes to the kitchen to "help" the cook combine ingredients so fresh you want to slap their faces.  Guy samples same and raves over the taste, the texture, the this, the that.  (I can see the writers tearing their hair over how to make another of Guy's enthusiastic comments seem--well, fresh.)  Guy then rolls off in his red convertible to get to the next place.
The show never varies, being absolutely formulaic, and the exact opposite of creative or thought-provoking, which should never, ever be allowed on television.  I can get those in books, and sometimes even in conversation.  I don't want to come across anything on the boob tube I'm supposed to take seriously; that's just a corruption of T.V.'s purpose.  Every D., D., and D. show immediately slides out of the viewer's head when it's over, so it isn't all cluttered up with anything thoughtful and you're ready for the next show.    
Boy, I love it.