2/15/15: I wasn't much fun to be around on Valentine's Day. (No one who has ever been married to or in a romantic relationship with me is surprised by that statement, but at least this year I had a good excuse.) I felt marginally better in the morning, but decided not to push it by getting out too much. In fact, the only time I ventured out of the house was to go to a funeral. I still managed to be pretty productive for most of the day, but by early evening I was completely useless. So we had a movie marathon. My patient, long-suffering husband let me pick the movies, and I chose two of my favorite Bogart classics: Casablanca and The Maltese Falcon. It just doesn't get any better than Casablanca. If you have never seen the movie, please rectify that oversight at once. Here's a short clip that doesn't give away any major plot lines, on the off chance there is someone out there who doesn't know the plot: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=SjbPi00k_ME
I still felt pretty rotten this morning, but I didn't want to waste a perfectly good three-day weekend, so I switched back into action hero mode. Before I went to church, I had already taken a long walk and done several loads of laundry. Part of the reason I got moving this morning was my enthusiasm for the anthem we were singing today. My patient, long-suffering husband (who is famous for his music programming skills) selected one of the most beautiful pieces I've ever had the privilege of singing for the Sunday morning after Valentine's Day. It was written by a composer who is ten years younger than me, which I have to admit makes me feel like a bit of a failure. While our performance this morning was not recorded, here is a version with the composer himself playing the piano. It also has a string section, which we did not have, but in my mind, I feel certain our version was just as good. http://youtu.be/4lf26JLbVF4
This afternoon, we got out for a bit, doing some window shopping at a nearby outdoor mall. Then we came home and worked on a few scientific experiments in the kitchen. (How my patient, long-suffering husband does kitchen experiments while on a liquid diet is beyond me. His will power is amazing.) One of the projects was making ice. Yes, I know that doesn't sound very difficult or interesting, but this wasn't just any ice. I'm sure I've mentioned my interest in mixology, the art of making cocktails. I've spent nearly two years trying to find a way to make perfectly clear ice cubes at home, with no success. As part of my Valentine gift, my patient, long-suffering husband found me a kit with the tools I need to do just that. I won't bore you with the details, but it involves a contraption that makes a long, rectangular piece of ice, half of which is perfectly clear. Then you chisel off the cloudy end (saving it for crushed ice, of course), leaving a clear cube. It works just as well as advertised. The only drawback is that I can only make two cubes in a 24-hour period. So I guess I'd better get on it. Here's my first attempt:
Not sure why my foot has been so angry this weekend. While a cool, rainy front came in today (which doesn't bode well for tomorrow), Friday and Saturday were gorgeous. As usual, I am confounded by this. Looks like it will be another movie marathon tonight. A little Bogart, anyone?
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