Sorry Peter, But I Have To Pan You

It is a given that the new NBC live Peter Pan which aired tonight will be compared to the original version, also NBC, in 1960. It starred Mary Martin and Cyril Ritchard, Broadway veterans with powerful voices and sly, sarcastic delivery of humor.  I loved it.  Tonight, I really did sit down to watch with high hopes. I don't know Alison Williams at all, but I love Christopher Walken.  I worried a bit about his laid-back style, but hoped he would step it up as the evil, hilarious Captain Hook.  I hoped that the funniest bits were be left in and that it would not be ultra-modernized.  

Christopher Walken's first appearance as Captain Hook, sans hat, reminded me of Fu Manchu.  I love the guy, I really do, but his dry, quiet humor just doesn't fit this part at all.  It needs flamboyance and high humor, which Cyril Ritchard gave it in the 1960 live TV version.  A new (generic and forgettable) song for the initial pirate appearance was pretty flat, with Walken languishing in his chair looking a little stoned (which is pretty much what he always looks like ... it's part of his charm ... just not for Hook).  He was funny at times, but all in all, his performance was not up to par.

Cyril Ritchard (1960 live TV version)

Mary Martin (1960 live TV version)

Alison Williams

Alison Williams has a nice enough voice, but it is very thin and exudes very little emotion of any kind.  She is rather flat in her performance, and there is no zap to her acting or singing.  In every department, Mary Martin blew Williams out of the water.  I thought she was a disappointment.

Wendy, Peter and Michael are .... well, just like all of the Wendys, Peters and Michaels in other versions.  They and the Lost Boys were cute and did an adequate job.

I did notice a technical problem that was surprising, considering the first-class treatment of this show.  During a couple of William's and Walken's songs, the orchestra was easier to hear than their singing.  Chorales were no problem, but solo singers were not loud enough.  Of course, Walken and Williams have similar voices -- too thin and without power.  I also read on the internet a criticism that the flying gear looked just the same as it did 54 years ago.  That didn't bother me -- how else can you do it on live TV without wires?  It's not like a movie where they can hide such things.

I loved the pirates ... funny, wonderful dancers and singers.  In contrast to the pirates' singing, Walken often sounded like he was whispering.

Sondra Lee (1960 live TV version)

In what I figured would be a controversial issue, Indian Queen Tiger Lily and her tribe were replaced by a gorgeous native Princess, played by Alanna Saunders, and her curiously naked-looking male tribe.  The Princess has a feather on front of her forehead, where Tiger Lily had one on the back of her head.  The Princess also has a better designer.  The new look is apparently considered more respectful -- the credits showed a Native American consultant, so I guess he knows.  However, I don't think a real native Princess would have access to shiny, metallic fabric made into a dress with only straps covering important places.  The original song, "Ugg uh Wugg", was cut out for modern sensitivities, but it was lots of fun.  I've always remembered how the dancers positioned themselves in a V and leaned from side to side until you were sure they were going to fall over.  The replacement song is tepid and not likely to be something you will hum or remember the lyrics.  The original Tiger Lily herself, Sondra Lee, gave an interview about this new version of Peter Pan.  She wishes them luck; however:

"Lee says that while she won't be watching the new version, she's read about it -- and she's not happy the producers have cut Tiger Lily's big song "Ugg-a-Wugg."  It's been replaced by "True Blood Brothers," a new song ... whose composer consulted Native Americans to make sure the song is more authentic than, say, the Land O'Lakes Lady.  Lee thinks that's silly.  "There was no such thing as political correctness when we did the show.  The song is about word games, and kids play word games all the time ... People come up to me all the time and say "Ugg-a-Wugg"!  They love it.  If you have a classic, don't mess with it..."

I enjoy writing about movies I love more than movies I don't like, so I'll never be a true critic.  But, in this case, I think a wonderful musical was not given the proper cast or new treatment, and that's a shame.

Charlie Chan's Cure For Insomnia

The last few months have brought with them some stressful events, and one side-effect was an unrelenting insomnia that didn't respond well even to sleeping pills.   I would get about 3-4 hours of comatose sleep and then wake right up again.  Reading doesn't work well with tired eyes, and you have to be careful what you watch on TV at 2 a.m.  Action shows or thriller movies just wake you up more.  Great classic movies aren't usually a good idea because your mind insists on staying awake to experience them.  Finally, I settled upon the perfect thing to enjoy and yet settle the brain down to eventual sleep ... Charlie Chan.

Warner Oland

I just love Charlie Chan movies, always have.  My high school steady boyfriend fell in love with me when I was able to name the three famous Chan actors, Warner Oland, Sidney Toler and Roland Winters.  (I knew we were a match made in Heaven when he started quoting W.C. Fields and the Marx Brothers.)  I never liked Roland Winters, but I love Oland and Toler.  Oland seemed to me the more sophisticated Charlie Chan, with a bit of polite menace in his countenance.  Toler is the friendlier father type of Charlie Chan, always ready with Confucius humor.  There is a Charlie Chan for any mood.

Sidney Toler

I know it isn't correct anymore to love the two best Charlies ... Oland was Swedish and Toler was from Missouri ... but I can't help it.  I didn't know they were a stereotype when I was a kid watching them on TV.  I just thought they were always smarter than anybody else at solving mysteries, and they always had a superior smile in answer to any insults they might receive.  I felt the same way about Mantan Moreland ... my favorite Toler movies are the ones in which Mantan appears as Birmingham Brown.  Again, my child self was not aware that these movie roles were hurtful to black people.  I just thought Mantan was so funny, and was the only one who seemed smart enough to know when he was in a dangerous situation.  Willie Best appeared in one Chan film as Chattanooga Brown, Birmingham's cousin, and I remember wishing I had a cool nickname like those.

Mantan Moreland and one of Charlie's sons
(I forget which one...)

The Charlie Chan movies are fun, not very long, pretty quiet actually ... when insomnia kept me from sleeping, I began to stretch out on the recliner, turn off all the lights, keep the volume low, and play some on a loop that included Charlie Chan at the Wax Museum, Murder at Midnight, Charlie Chan in Egypt.  The background scores are soothing, the pace is not hurried, and eventually I was usually out like a light.  The loop would keep playing until it turned itself off, and I was blissfully asleep.  So thanks, Charlie ... you cured me.

I found a clip on Youtube of Mantan Moreland and his vaudeville partner, Ben Carter, doing their famous "interrupted sentence" routine in some of the Chan movies.  (The clip names it "incomplete sentence" routine, but that's wrong.)  They are so good at it, and it always tickles me.

What Day Is It?

Holiday weekends always throw me off.  I never know what day it is.  I planned to post an article on Monday, which I thought was today but was actually yesterday.  My brain, like my purse,  is a bottomless pit ... a lot of things just get lost down there.

My youngest son, Greg, is getting married Saturday.  I am so happy for him, and I love his fiancee.  I'm also a nervous wreck ... did this get done, did I forget something, oh my God I didn't hem my outfit, should I just attend by webcam and then I won't have to worry about how anything looks except from the neck up ... you know what I mean.

So, I'm not going to do an extensive article because I wouldn't do it well anyway.  After Saturday, the panic will have disappeared and my mind will be free.

I have some great ideas for the Brain Food.  I'd like to do another entry to my Overlooked At The Oscars series.  Of course, I am joining the Forgotten Stars Blogathon, and looking forward to it.  I'm also in the mood to spoof a Vincent Price movie ... love that man!  I am looking forward to visiting blogs and seeing what good stuff I have missed.

So long for now, kids.  I'll be working on something good ... but then, you will be the judges of that!

The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes

This article is my contribution to the Billy Wilder Blogathon, hosted by Aurora at Once Upon A Screen (aurorasginjoint.com) and Kellee of Outspoken and Freckled (kelleepratt.com).  Click on those links to find the list of contributors to this event.  

The film I have chosen to highlight of all the works of Billy Wilder is probably the one of which he was most disappointed, most loved by him, didn't make much money, and was not a hit at the box office.  Wilder was a prolific director and writer, one of the best.  His movies always carried the Wilder touch of humor, sharp dialogue and human pathos.  The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (hereafter referred to as Private Life), released in 1970, contains all of those, plus the added touch of the love Wilder felt for the great detective.

Robert Stephens as Holmes

Wilder had a dream about creating a film dedicated to Holmes as not just the razor-sharp consulting detective, but also a man with a private life, feelings and emotions.  Arthur Conan Doyle did not create emotions for the great detective since those human reactions get in the way of logic and deduction, something Holmes would never allow.  However, it was Wilder's intention to create what the lovers of Holmes had never seen -- the life he and his friend Dr. Watson shared in between the great cases they solved.  Wilder and his long-time collaborator I.A.L. Diamond worked assiduously on a script that became the building block for a three-hour movie.  (Diamond also co-wrote Wilder's The Apartment, one of my top 10 favorite films.)  The two men wrote an episodic film which told the stories of four particularly strange cases (one of which had the very interesting name of The Dreadful Business of the Naked Honeymooners).  Originally, Holmes and Watson were to have been played by Peter O'Toole and Peter Sellers, respectively.  Much as I love both of them, Private Life would have suffered.  Wilder also believed that lesser-known actors would better showcase the story he wanted to tell.

Robert Stephens and Colin Blakely as Dr. Watson

Sadly, the real 'dreadful business' affecting Private Life was the reluctance of United Artists to release such an epic-length movie.  UA had just lost a great deal of money on Hello, Dolly and a couple of other blockbuster flops.  Wilder was forced to agree to an unbelievable cutting of half the original running time.  The episodic format made it a little easier to cut because the studio just cut out two of the cases, but Wilder was devastated:  "... when I came back [from Paris], it was an absolute disaster, the way it was cut.  The whole prologue was cut, a half-sequence was cut.  I had tears in my eyes as I looked at the thing ... It was the most elegant picture I've ever shot."  Private Life was left with basically two primary stories to tell, one of a beautiful woman, Gabrielle (Genevieve Page) in which a missing husband and six midgets play a part, and one that involved the Loch Ness monster and the royal family.  There is also a very funny episode in which Holmes is forced to intimate that he and Watson are gay lovers, in order to fend off a determined Russian ballerina.  Of interest to classic movie fans are two cameo appearances:  Christopher Lee appears as Sherlock's brother Mycroft; and the part of a gravedigger is played by Stanley Holloway, a tribute to the wonderful character actor who had also played the part of the gravedigger in Olivier's Hamlet 22 years  before.

Robert Stephens

However, no matter what was done to the movie, I completely agree with Wilder ... it is a wonderfully elegant picture.  The two paramount reasons for this are the incredible music by Miklos Rozsa and the prodigious talents of British actor Robert Stephens as Holmes.  Stephens was a classically trained actor, described as on a par with Laurence Olivier.  Stephens' own private life was rocky, with failed marriages and a drinking problem to contend with, but his professional life of acting primarily on stage, with a few films to his credit, was indeed tour de force.  He brought to his depiction of Holmes a wonderfully effete air and nasal British accent that was haughty enough for the top of London society.  He was pencil-thin (which Wilder insisted upon), and kept a nose-in-the-air attitude that just fit perfectly with the humor that Wilder and Diamond had written for him.  Of particular note is his annoyance with Watson (Colin Blakely) because of his description of Holmes wearing a deerstalker cap and cape, which Holmes had never worn and only did so because the public expected it of him. Holmes disagreed vehemently with other descriptions made by Watson:

Holmes:  "I don't dislike women, I merely distrust them.  The twinkle in the eye and the arsenic in the soup."
**************
Holmes:  "You've painted me as a hopeless drug addict just because I occasionally take a five-percent solution of cocaine."
Watson:  "A seven-percent solution."
Holmes.  "Five percent.  Don't you think I am aware you've been diluting it behind my back?"

Robert Stephens and Genevieve Page as Gabrielle ('the woman')

Stephens was wonderful in the humorous parts, but particularly striking in the portrayal of Holmes with regard to 'the woman' and his feelings and relationship with her, and a core of loneliness that was Wilder's creation.  After I saw Private Life for the first time, I believed that Stephens was one of the best Holmes in movie adaptations.  Stephens had a lot to work with in Wilder and Diamond's spot-on writing.  Another important aspect of the film is the music of Miklos Rozsa.

Rozsa's music had graced many films, including Ben Hur and Lust for Life.  He was at the top of his game with Private Life.  I've always believed that music can make or break a movie, and great music can play as important a part as any star or director.  Rozsa created a score that included his Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, Opus 24, which is highlighted in the opening titles.  I found the opening truly haunting -- a mysterious box being opened to reveal possessions of Holmes and Watson, with a manuscript that had never been read.  Rozsa's accompanying music, particularly when it segues into the concerto, is ravishing to the ear.  If you have not seen Private Life, make an effort to do so, if only to relish Billy Wilder's writing and direction, Robert Stephens' marvelous performance, and the music of Miklos Rozsa.

Beauty and the Hollywood Beast - The 2014 Oscars

Kim Novak 

Liza Minnelli

After last year's Oscar ceremony, a shameful debacle of the lowest common denominator headed by Seth Macfarlane, I thought this year would be at best tasteful, at worst boring.  Ellen DeGeneres as host turned out to be light and funny for the most part, a few zings here and there for fun, and I've always liked her.  That is why I was really shocked when she was so mean to Liza Minnelli.  Ellen thought it was funny to tell Liza in front of millions of people that she looked like a male impersonator.  Such remarks are funny only when they aren't true.  Unfortunately, at this point, Liza does look like an impersonation of herself, so it isn't funny at all.  Liza suffers from mental and physical disabilities, as did her dear mother, Judy Garland, and it takes a pretty hard heart to ignore that for the sake of a 20 second laugh.  It was plain that Liza was flustered, and I'm sure she was very hurt and embarrassed, the kind of hurt that takes a while to sink in and then stays with you forever.  Shame on Ellen for throwing a cruel spotlight on a troubled and unguarded person.

That opening salvo of uncharitable behavior was topped later by the treatment that Kim Novak received, from her ignominious arrival on the stage to the behavior of the audience of supposed peers.  Kim Novak was a big star of a bygone era.  What on earth possessed the director to just send her out with no announcement, as if she were just another presenter?  She deserved at least a special word from the host, but received none.  Worse yet, the audience of actors and movie-makers practically sat on their hands.  Oh there was applause, but nothing special at all.  It was the worst case of Hollywood with its virtual head up its virtual rear end.  I'm pretty sure it was all because Kim took the unfortunate step of plastic surgery which turned out badly.  She does not look recognizable anymore, she was plainly nervous and overwhelmed, and probably embarrassed that she did not evoke any special recognition from the audience.

All of that could have been avoided by a director who was professional enough to see a potential problem with just bringing her out cold, or a host with enough sense to prepare the audience who may not recognize her fast enough.  All it would have taken was "Ladies and gentleman, we are privileged to have with us tonight a Hollywood legend -- Kim Novak."  I'm sure the reaction would have been different, some real applause and recognition.  What a simple thing to have done, which was apparently beyond the ability of the show's planners.  It would also have been nice if somebody had said how great it was to see Kim Novak.  It's hard to believe that nobody thought to render that little kindness.  Only one person helped Kim, her fellow presenter, Matthew McConaughey.  He put his arm around her, and it was clear that he saw her tentative behavior, her obvious nervousness.  His behavior was that of a gentleman and a caring human being.

Now she is no longer young and beautiful, and has bravely revealed the severe problems that being manic-depressive have meant to her life.  Hell, I could say the exact same thing about myself. And despite a bad surgery job, she doesn't look anywhere near 80 as a whole!  When you get older you lose the pretty face of youth, and lifelong mental disabilities can make you more frail in dealing with the cold, cruel world, not necessarily stronger.  Kim has spoken about herself and revealed a woman with great strengths, but also difficulty with public appearance. It takes a society of compassion to deal with sick people, shy people, nervous people -- it takes individuals with some sense of empathy to see and divert such people from hurt.  There was only one person in that crowd of people, and thank goodness for him.

I always loved Kim Novak.  She could hold her own on screen, and it was her incredible beauty and air of wistful vulnerability that made her a star.  I am reminded of a wonderful line from My Favorite Year, a movie about an aging matinee idol who said of himself, "I'm not an actor, I'm a movie star!"  In the movies, it is no shame to be popular because of looks.  Even one of the oldest songs about Hollywood says "...any office boy or young mechanic can be a panic with just a good looking pan."  She always lit up the screen with her presence and I always felt the star quality that made her a pleasure to watch.  The problem is that youth and beauty are transitory, time is relentless, and human beings don't always make the best judgments under pressure.

Hollywood is hard on people without a tough skin.  Modern Hollywood is especially obsessed with looks and youth.  It is the utmost hypocrisy to insist that actresses have those qualities, and then laugh at someone who is insecure and desperate enough to undergo plastic surgery to reach for what is past.  The young women working in movies are going to lose their looks eventually too.  It appears that they won't have a clue about the feelings of disconnect and disrespect which that obsession can mean to one of their own profession until it happens to them.  ( I don't include the men, who are allowed to be old, wrinkled and sagging and still be accepted as desirable.)  Hollywood isn't the only source of meanness -- the multitude of nasty twitter posts about Kim's altered face, as well as Liza's appearance, made me feel a little sick.  They are being quoted all over the internet, and I feel awful that the women will certainly see them and be hurt all over again.

Kim, I wish you could know tonight that many fans love you, remember your beauty, admire the woman that you are now, and don't give a damn about your outward appearance.  Liza, you were once a striking girl with youthful exuberance, and you now are a woman contending with age and illness, and the same feelings apply to you.  Countering the smirking laughter, there is also a lot of outrage that you were both treated badly.  Kindness is the best of human virtues -- you should have received at least that from your own people.

Captain Hook and Cyril Ritchard -- A Fond Tribute

If you are old enough to remember the wonderful 1960 television production of Peter Pan with Mary Martin as Peter and the fabulous Cyril Ritchard as Captain Hook, you have probably remembered Cyril with great fondness.  Or perhaps you have been lucky enough to see the show some time over the years.  Cyril stole the show as the rather hapless leader of the dumbest bunch of pirates ever gathered.  He was flamboyant, funny as hell, and made his mark on my whole generation.  I ran across this picture of his wedding to his wife Madge in 1935.  I just had to share it.  Is Madge's dress magnificent or what?  And Cyril is the epitome of the dapper English gentleman.  The picture is a little bit fuzzy, but I just had to make it big enough to really showcase its beauty.

Cyril was an immensely popular and prolific stage star of musical comedies.  Because of the TV production of Peter Pan, the whole country was able to experience his charisma and great talent.  He was also the good friend of another figure who made his mark on my childhood, Bishop Fulton J. Sheen.  Many may remember Bishop Sheen's popular TV show, which was top in the ratings for many years.  When Cyril died December 18, 1977 at age 80, Bishop Sheen celebrated his funeral Mass.

If you haven't seen him perform, I found one of his funniest numbers in Peter Pan to post here.  Whenever Captain Hook needed to think, he called his pirate band to inspire him with music.  They would ask:  "What tempo, Captain?"  He would reply:  "Tempo, Tempo, Tempo!" and decide.  This one is his ultimate, the hilarious waltz.  I hope it makes you laugh as much as I do, no matter how many times I see it.  My favorite line is Hook's angry response to disrespect:  "NO!  BI-CARBONATE OF SODA, NO!"

Cyril Ritchard -- nobody could top him as Captain Hook!

And You Thought YOUR Boyfriend Was Bad!

Everybody has had one ... the boyfriend who turns out to be the biggest four-flushing, dirt-eating, woman-ogling, foul-mouthed, eats-with-his-mouth-open, bullying maroon who breaks up with you the day before Valentine's and then wants to get back together the next day.  Gentlemen readers, you are free to substitute the feminine gender and any similar characteristics ... it's only fair.  The movies are chock full of nasty boyfriends, so count yourselves lucky, girls, that you didn't try to date any of these guys.
(Spoilers are par for the course here, so continue at your own risk.)

Johnny Rocco (Edward G. Robinson in Key Largo, 1948).

The ultimate gangster, Rocco has no conscience or love at all for the woman who has stuck with him for many years.  Gaye Dawn (Claire Trevor) is now an aging, alcoholic, former nightclub singer. She is pitiful, an abused woman who keeps coming back for more.  Rocco enjoys it a lot.  Oh, that horrendous scene in which Rocco forces her to stand and sing for her liquor!  Anybody with a heart can't watch that without wincing and feeling sick for this woman.  And then he welshes on his promise and won't give her a drink.  Thank heaven for Bogart, who not only gives Gaye her drink, but gives Rocco a bullet in the end.

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Morris Townsend (Montgomery Clift in The Heiress, 1949).

Every time I see this movie, my mind keeps repeating "How could he?  How could he?!"  Gorgeous, charming Morris, who makes rich, homely Catherine (Olivia de Havilland) blossom like a flower because she believes he loves her ... who can forget Catherine sitting in the parlor with her bags packed, waiting for Morris to come and get her so they can elope?  And he never comes ... her hopeful, loving face wilts and part of her dies forever.

Morris returns after Catherine inherits her money, with excuses and "the same old lies" says Catherine, after telling Morris to return that night and elope with her.  He returns, and in one of the most powerful endings ever, he hammers desperately at the bolted door while Catherine, now a strong woman, climbs the stairs and leaves him behind.  What woman wouldn't give her right middle finger to get that chance!  There are two separate camps of opinion about Morris.  Some believe he really did want to protect her from angering her father with an elopement and possibly losing her inheritance.  Others believe he was just a complete rat.  I'm with the rat pack.

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Danny (Robert Montgomery in Night Must Fall, 1937).

Definitely cute, Danny may not seem to fit the category of boyfriend to Olivia (Rosalind Russell), but the chemistry is there and the sparks fly throughout this story of a pathological killer.  Charm exudes from Danny and everybody loves him ... except Olivia, who feels that Danny is a dangerous man even while she is attracted to him.  Robert Montgomery is just wonderful in this part, quite a departure at the time from his usual light comedy fare.  This guy is scary!

Mrs. Bramson (Dame May Whitty) is an annoying bully of a woman, but she believes Danny is like a son to her.  She doesn't deserve her fate at the hands of the sweet young man who comes home to finds her alone and scared, and seems to be comforting her with brandy and sweet talk.  She doesn't know that a pillow and Danny's strong hands will follow that drink.

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Tom Stevens (Hugh Marlowe in The Day The Earth Stood Still, 1951).

The ultimate wormy guy, Tom somehow wriggled his way into Helen Benson's (Patricia Neal) life as her boyfriend.  Nothing really untoward had happened yet, although there were signs of jealous pique and controlling behavior.  However, when Klaatu and Gort arrived from space, Tom was unconcerned that he might be bringing doom to the planet Earth.  All he could think of was being a big man.  Helen pleads with him not to betray Klaatu, but all Tom could say is "You'll feel differently when you see my name in the papers."  "I feel differently now," she says.  Smart woman.

Obviously Klaatu (dreamy perfectly tailored Michael Rennie) would be a fabulous boyfriend, but even Gort would have been a better catch than Tom.

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Ashley Wilkes (Leslie Howard in Gone With The Wind, 1939).

I hope I don't get too much hate mail for this one, but I've always thought Ashley was a major wimp and quite a tease to Scarlett.  She always gets the blame, but Ashley kept stringing her along all through the movie.  (He counts as a boyfriend since he squired Scarlett around before his marriage and didn't give up the job completely after that.)  Rhett was so right ... Ashley couldn't go all out one way or the other.  It's a good thing for him Melanie was so kind and understanding, or he would have had the door slammed in his face pretty quick.  I would have had more respect for him if he had just thrown Scarlett down in the mud at war-torn Tara and had  his way with her.  They would both have gotten it out of their system and life could go on...

Man up, Mr. Wilkes!  Do it, or don't do it, but bring it to some kind of climax already!

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Bluto (Popeye cartoons, beginning 1933)

Everybody's favorite big bully, Bluto courted and abused Olive Oyl at every opportunity.  Popeye was always there to save her, but wait a minute ... is it possible that Olive was responsible to some degree?

Yep, there's old Olive fawning and simpering over big bad Bluto.  I just can't feel sorry for her ... in her case, she really asks for it!

The moral of all this is:  Listen to your Mom and Dad when they beg you to dump that guy!

Welcome To My Polar Pad

What movies shall I watch while Indianapolis temperatures dip to 15 below (real temperature!) and we get 10 feet of snow (well, one foot anyway)?  I can think of a few.....

This will be home sweet home for me ... I won't have gorgeous Dr. Zhivago to cuddle with, but my kitty Harriet loves to sit in my lap, so at least that will be warm.

I had to get candles and flashlight batteries -- so did everybody else in town.  We were all making the March of the Penguins to the drugstore.  Of course, if the power really does go out, so does the heat ... then my eyelids will freeze shut and candles and flashlights won't be any help.

 Dive!  Dive!  Not a good time to come up!  (Ice Station Zebra)  Hey, I bet my car will look like that!

 Jaws took a swim too far north...(I'll watch that one to remember summer heat).

The Thing of it is, I should have installed indoor plumbing...

I'll end with something really beautiful..  The Snowman makes cold and snow look fun.  And the superb song "Walking in the Air" always makes me feel fabulous, no matter what the weather.  Sung by England's St. Paul Cathedral choirboy Peter Auty with a piercing sweetness.




Happy shivering, everybody!