Ya know, you try to do a good deed and take a stray cat in, and suddenly they turn into "stalker kitty". Sunday morning when I came home from work, I was doing dishes in the kitchen. Mr. G had his car parked in the driveway across from the kitchen window. I was looking down and I saw a flash of black, then heard a thump. I'm thinking, "What the hell was that?" But, of course, I ignored it. Hey, if it's not on fire within three feet of me, I have better things to worry about. A few seconds later, I glanced up and saw Hobo Kitty on the trunk of Mr. G's car. He then launched himself at the kitchen window and all I saw were frantic paws clawing and sliding down the glass. What a maroon.
I finally got to see the 1945 movie "Christmas in Connecticut." Barbara Stanwyck plays Elizabeth Lane, a Martha Stewart type who can do anything domestic. She writes a column for a magazine, and claims to be knowledgeable on just about every subject. She's a great cook, wonderful wife, mother and housekeeper, who even takes care of her farmhouse. The only problem is she's none of those things. She writes her column from a small cramped New York apartment and is single. Alexander Yardley, the publisher of the magazine she writes for and a stickler for the truth, has no idea she's been lying about her situation, and he decides that he, along with a wounded soldier, will spend Christmas at her farm. The movie became a tad convoluted, but it was a cute idea.
I have to admit, though, if I hadn't known Elizabeth was Stanwyck, I never would have recognized her.
I guess her Big Valley days had me thinking she had always been a peroxide blonde.