Wow! I couldn't access this blog for couple of days, and it was most disconcerting! My younger daughter's boyfriend rescued me, and I'm back in business, boys!
I had a delightful phone discussion with a bud, all about the greater meaning of Toy Story 3. Only crazed grandmothers would tolerate such a topic, but we had fun. Now we've plans to go see an adult movie tomorrow night - with Tilda Swinton, so it's bound to be weird but perhaps wonderful as well.
It's summer, and I didn't wear a jacket all day. Yippee! I'm in cowgirl mode because we saw Puccini's Girl of the Golden West Sunday with Deborah Voight riding a real, live palomino, and it was delightful. All the good arias are the tenor's, but she was wonderful in her hat and gauchos and rifle. Annie Get Your Gun, before Betty Hutton. I adore that musical. Anything you can do, I can do better, I can do anything better than you. I especially like - can you bake a pie? neither can I.
And in Puccini's opera he gives a little song to Minnie's Indian servant. The only other time I've seen an Indian in an opera was John Adams' Dr. Atomic. Why not do Sacaweja the musical? Or John Ross, the traitor? There are some mighty good melodramas in Native American History. In fact, for tragedy, you just can't hardly beat us! But we're laughing now. We didn't get exterminated, and we can overcharge for vision quests and jewelry. It's the American way.
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