This site is dedicated to all who believe that a Very Good Life depends upon our capacity to open our hearts and minds to the goodness which surrounds us- and sharing it.
The viewpoint expressed here is that of a traditional woman who believes our most important legacy is what we leave behind in the hearts of others is our most important legacy.
Godspeed and Good Fortune to all who enter here.
Our little Eden, complete with the occasional snake, is USDA Zone 9B. Nested high in a chaparral filled valley, ground level is 957’ above sea level. The view is incredible. The specific climate is mostly Sunset Zone 20. I don’t want stalkers, so we’ll skip the GPS info. It is pretty glorious to live here in the land of 2 seasons: Fire and mudslide.
This journal is filled with enthusiastic strivings to fulfill the suburbanite fantasy of keeping a country home.
As context is important, on occasion a bit of history or commentary on current events is dropped in.
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Saturday, July 24, 2010
Chick Flick Night
In high school, the quad at lunch was where we met our girlfriends. We were cheap to feed because we lived on a perpetual "diet". If we skipped the beverage: stuck to water, we could save the quarter from the lunch allowance.
Then came married with children. A time when neighbor ladies came over to nibble on danish with coffee- gossip about the charmingly annoying similarities of our spouses.
In 2010: there is the email group. More personal than Facebook or other social network sites, we trust our schedules with thoughts with each other. Real Life, but not necessarily in real time.
We don't get up at the same time or have the same schedules. We don't live in the same state, let alone city. But as friends, we know each other's likes and dislikes from the chit chat. If anyone goes "missing"- we pick up the phone to find out what we can do to help.
Earlier in the week, I reported in on a delightful Judi Dench movie, "Mrs. Henderson Presents". Trisha asked where to find it. Still catalogued on our DVR. Chick Flick night was born.
One of the privileges of being married is not having to read instructions. Here, the "girls" - we are all well past the age where that term is deemed pejorative- are raising our glasses of the bubbly to Gerry- who is effortlessly competent when it comes to remotes related to our entertainment center.
More on our evening next post. Nothing fancy: but prepare to drool.