Now, where were we?

For the dead of January, I have a surprising amount of catching up to do after nine days away. First, the hubby is taking to his new hip like Madonna to Botox. (I'll get to that later.)  He's been cleared to drive and to take his daily sauna. And, no more TED hose, aka the bane of my existence. The main problem now is boredom, which is climbing to record levels. There just aren't enough books and basketball games in the world. It's an issue. That's all I'll say. So, let's move on to Madonna at the Grammy's...

The cowboy hat, the dangling garters, the cane...it's just a little sad, that's all.

I feel for her, having to perform with a cane and all. (I have deep sympathy for the lame.) But, holy toxins, people! This Botox madness has got to stop. She looks like a wax museum statue of herself. And now, she's teaming up with Miley Cyrus?! Why can't these divas just age gracefully? (I guess I've had some pent-up snarkiness in the last nine days. Sorry.)
  As I might have mentioned fifty times before, our son moved to the Big Apple recently, leaving behind many worldly possessions, including his effing huge (excuse my French) flat screen TV. Before flying off, he planted the suggestion that maybe we would want to trade our smaller, more sensible flat screen for his because wherever he landed in NYC would certainly not have room for the effing size of it. "NO!" I said. "I have put a lot of thought into the scale and proportion of my living room, and an effing TV like that would ruin the whole scheme of things!" Then, this happened....

It's about the aforementioned boredom, you see. The hip patient desperately needed something to do. "Let's just TRY mounting the effing thing to the wall and see if we like it," he said. (How could I deny the man a project, especially one that involved his tools?) "Holy God!" I said, when we were done. "The effing thing is bigger than the fireplace!" (Did I mention we're studying French?")  Here's a panoramic view, to drive my point home....

I don't know what will happen in ten days when the boy from New York flies home to get his truck and the rest of his belongings. I'd like to think good taste and a sensible sense of scale will prevail. In the meantime, we've already had one helluva basketball watch party...and I'm kinda looking forward to the Super Bowl now.