Call Me Shallow…


In the old days I lived a full life.

Being a hostage in Coronaville is quite limiting.

If it is Monday, it is wash and change the sheets day.

Tuesday is put on my rubber gloves and dust, polish and vacuum.

If it is 7am get ready to hike.

10am is Peloton hour.

You get my drift.

Nighttime activities after making my 330 plus dinner in the last year, includes laboriously scanning Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime, HBO Max for something to watch.

The nightly ritual reminds me of those black and white flip books that if you flip them fast enough you create an animated movie.

I have seen some fabulous movies and TV series during the pandemic, but the well has run dry.

Call me shallow, but what happened to a good old fashion, ugly cry RomCom?

This weekend I popped the popcorn and settled down to the much anticipated Nomadland.

As always Frances McDormand was a tour de force, but I enjoy flow and total engagement in my movies.

If you are looking for a Guide to Nomadic Living then have at it.

I can live without bowel bucket retail advice and the realities of life on the road.

Next up was The Trial of the Chicago 7 which was compelling, engrossing and definitely worth watching, but after 4 years of  the stench of Agent Orange I could momentarily live without prejudice and the heinous conservative stranglehold on America, along with 500,000 Covid deaths, the fear of being infected, Ted Cruz, Josh Hawley, Lindsey Graham, Texas size weather problems, spending hours everyday trying to find a shot in the arm, shootings, caged children, riots, house confinement…

Honestly, just give me Julia Roberts and any appealing male in a sweet and innocent movie where the biggest crisis is finding acceptable bridesmaid dresses and the goal of consummating the relationship with that special person.

I am plum tuckered out.

By the way, if you have any shallow viewing suggestions, hit me with your best shot.

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