Super Bowl MIght And Money

Daytime:  pared and cooked down eight large apples, puttered around, showered ad dressed.
Evening:  Ambled the three doors down to Barbara's and Ray's at 5:30.  Most of the other guests--about sixteen of them--were already there.  It was the usual crowd who come every year, including Susan and Walter, and Leslie and Dennis, whom I'm alway happy to see.
It was also the usual boring, Neanderthal display of might and money.  The odious beginning, halftime, and in-betweens were filled with worshipful "recognition" of hired killers and, of course, the saccharine vignettes of little Herkimer being surprised at Daddy Coming Home.  It was actually refreshing when the frantically screaming and gyrating "music" acts came on.  And every two seconds, it seemed, proceedings were interrupted by the real point of the evening: ads for the products made by the corporations that own us, lock, stock, and barrel.  That loathsome little puppy, big horse, one had already been aired all over the Internet and my companions, being primed and conditioned to do so, naturally sighed and sniffed over how adorable it was.
But okay, the food was good and it was fun to be at a party.  The damn game dragged on and on, though, and I didn't get home until well after 10:00.  Skyped Ellen and we had a pleasurable visit.
I decided to take Tara up on her offer to coach to coach me in my Aunt Julia role and e-mailed her to that effect. She responded to say she's available after work today, I'm happy to say.  Will ask Ellen V. (who plays my maid for the second time on stage) if she can come, too.