the essentials

I was a little more than leery when Turner Classic Movies announced last year that Alec Baldwin would co-host Saturday night's The Essentials with the astute Robert Osborne. I must admit, I don't particularly care for Baldwin. How could he, of all people, possibly have anything to say about classic film?

After the first few segments last year, I thought, "Dearest Bob, Bob, Bob, are you off your noodle?" There, in the ubiquitous matching red chairs, were the oh-so-classy Osborne, offering his wealth of film knowledge with his usual gracious elegance, and Baldwin slouched back, arrogantly hogging the conversation. It was the pairing of a tall flute of champagne with a can of beer. I cringed. How could it possibly come to this?

But, as the year progressed, Baldwin surprised me. He's actually quite articulate and knowledgeable about film. Who knew? I must say he looks pretty darn dapper these days, assuming his best "come hither" posture on the edge of his red leather chair. And do I detect the slightest adding of gray around his face? Perhaps he is being groomed to succeed the 78 year old Osborne? Ah, but I still rue the day, since Robert Osborne is quite the essential in my little book.

one liners

I forgive the girl with the purple pen who hacked up Charles Simic.

Without the leaves to sound proof, if I listen carefully, I hear the

semis roaring in the distance; it makes me think of Frost's "and

miles to go before I sleep".

.

The sun on the back deck this morning made the sparkly frost look

just like the sugar on my batch of ginger cookies.

.I forgot to put the trash out this week.

He doesn't know it, but Robert Osborne is one of my bestest;

I have the hugest crush on him and those baby blues...Bob, you look

fabulous in your new dark blue suit and that green tie is tres chic,

my friend. (Got any of those bobble heads left? I want one.)

.

Bach's Sleepers Awake made me cry this morning.

Morning in the Burned House, Margaret Atwood's poetry, has been

delightful..."don't confuse me with my hen-leg elbows".

Today's a really good hair day; of course, I've seen no one.

Speaking of hair, I pulled a rat of it out of the shower drain today;

akk, I think I'm going bald...you know, I once dreamed my biological

father was Yul Brynner.

.

I'm severely craving a double fish fillet from Mickey Dee's; I might

just have to hop in the old Land Rover and go get myself one...don't

worry, I'll be good and skip the glorious fries. (forgive me Robynn,

for I am about to sin...)

This weekend is going to be incredibly fun...hope you all have one,

too, my bloggy pals~!

Raindrops, Roses and Bob

Are any of you out there as crazy about Robert Osborne as I am? I
watch a lot of the Turner Classic Movies channel. At the end of a
busy day it is so comforting to have the dashing and upbeat Bob there
to introduce the evening's eight o'clock movie. He is the consummate
blend of friendliness and sophistication. And he always looks so
handsome and put together in his classy suit and tie. Not only is he
there before the movie, but he comes back to chat with me about it
when it's over! How nice is that? I hate to admit it, but when I watch
a DVD from my own collection, I feel a tad lonely when it’s over,
because he is not there to add his intriguing comments. Here's to
you, Bob. Thanks for sharing so many evenings with me, dear friend.
You are right up there with raindrops on roses.