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Wrist to Forehead Sunday: Oscar Edition

Like I know anything about the Oscars.  My husband, Steven, has always been a big Oscar fan and is quite knowledgeable about The Academy.  As regular readers know, I am more enamored of old cheesy horror movies.  Oh, I like some Oscar movies.  In fact, of recent movies, I certainly like Oscar movies better than huge, effects-heavy actioners or superhero movies, or asinine comedies replete with toilet humor.  I can’t say I’m a snob, given my love of William Castle and Roger Corman.  Let’s say my tastes are.. not mainstream.

All that said, when we had a chance to see all or most of the main Oscar nominees, we did.  Ever since we returned to the Mohawk Valley, however, it has not been so easy.  Sometimes it just seems such an effort to get to the area cinemas, even when they show the films we want to see.  Munson Williams shows movies, but even getting to Utica can be problematic, especially given Steven’s work hours.

Oh, don’t accuse me of whining. I suppose I am whining, but I don’t mean to be. After all, one does not whine on Wrist to Forehead Sunday.  One swoons, in a dramatic fashion, the back of one’s wrist against one’s forehead, because life has become too much to be borne.  Alas!  Alack the day! You call that whining?  I call that an honest, if slightly exaggerated, response to the trauma of life.

So, on the brighter side, I get to stay up and watch the Oscars, because I have tomorrow off.  Normally I go to bed early on Sunday, to recruit my energies for the week ahead.  Additionally, I have taken two short naps today.  I feel in fine, TV-viewing fettle.  On the dimmer side, I have not seen any of the moves nominated, and I don’t even know most of the stars, especially since we let our subscription to Entertainment Weekly lapse (we found ourselves increasingly less entertained by it).

Back on the brighter side, I hear Steven washing the dishes, so I don’t have to do it.  That’s pretty nice of him on his Fabulous Four-Day Birthday Weekend.  That’s more on the brighter side than on the dimmer.  Maybe I should peel my wrist off my forehead and get back to enjoying my Sunday.  In the meantime, how about an Oscar nomination for that swoon?

 

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