I flew to Miami Saturday afternoon, and took the Super Shuttle to my sister's house. It took forever. The driver had the worst sense of direction! I was alone in the van at first, but he made another loop and got 2 more passengers. The first was going to a Marriott near Dadeland mall. We got to Dadeland and rode around aimlessly. Just as the driver was finally calling to get directions, we saw a big building saying "Marriott." The next stop was a private house. Despite the numbered address, we wound in and out of several streets before finding it. By now it was dark. After more meandering, he found my sister's house. It's probably worth the $8 more for a cab.
We had some good meals out (chicken marsala at Christy's, cheese quesadillas at Deli Lane) and in (barbecued chicken eaten on the porch, so maybe that's "out"), and watched Jeffy's bar mitzvah party DVD. I got copies to take home. Joel dazzled with magic, and Jeffy did a parody of my blog ("I was going to use the L'Oreal shampoo but then decided..."). The kids save a lot of stuff on DVR, so we saw some episodes of "Family Guy" (panic room) and "Futurama" ("Titanic" spoof). Also "Desperate Housewives" which I hadn't watched since season 1. I played "Message in a Bottle" on Guitar Hero, but Jeffy had to press the colors while I just strummed.
Everyone should see the Radio City Christmas show at least once. My mother used to go every New Year's Day, and I went a few times in the '60s and also saw an abbreviated version (including the wooden soldiers dance) at the "Miracle on 34th Street" premiere in 1994. This year, I got a discount (though still not cheap) ticket offer, and went last night. Radio City is always gorgeous, and so is this show. Lots of Rockettes numbers; I love precision dancing. I remember the nativity scene as being dark and scary, with guys in robes and icky animals. This time it was brighter, and the camels were draped to avoid accidents.
I like being independent and hate having to ask people for anything. So the need for an escort home after the colonoscopy was hanging over me. N's friend M will do it, so that's a relief. Now I just have to get through the prep, which should be worse than the procedure itself.
There were cries for help in the hall just now, and people came out to assist so I watched through the peephole. A 77-year-old woman coming back from dialysis (accompanied by her daughter) passed out in the elevator. A neighbor called 911 and EMS was there quickly. Her blood pressure was low but otherwise it looked like she'd be OK.
"Roommate" by Jacqueline Wein - a "Single White Female" of 1979. One roommate is murdered and the other descends into madness. SPOILER: Maybe because she did it?
"Actress: Postcards from the Road" by Elizabeth Ashley - when I was in the audience to see Joyce Maynard appear on a Boston TV talk show, Elizabeth Ashley was the other guest and came across as confident and exuberant. Although this 1978 memoir written not long after that may seem premature, Ashley had already done a lot of living at age 38. She writes about her acting process and dishes lots of dirt - marriages to James Farentino and George Peppard and a tumultuous affair with married author Tom McGuane, who infuriated her by running off with a "star-lette" he impregnated. McGuane's wife later married Peter Fonda. Fast crowd. I had to know who the "star-lette" was and determined it was Margot Kidder.