I watched a little bit of the Golden Globes last night, entranced with the dresses. I pay little attention to who wins, as it seems sentimental and arbitrary. And since "Tree of Life" is not nominated for anything, I don't really care who wins. I'm not surprised at "The Artist" and "Hugo" taking awards, as they are both love letters to Hollywood, and narcissism loves well, itself. I had to leave after a few minutes, as we were having our younger daughter's boyfriend's parents over for dinner. They are nice and friendly, but it's awkward since are only real connection is that our kids live together. Finding common ground beyond that is a process. I made my chicken pot pie, which, if I do say so, is the ultimate in comfort food.
Tomorrow we go for a mini-vacation for two nights. The dogs will be kenneled, and we will sleep in and wander aimlessly and soak in their hot springs swimming pool. It's supposed to rain, but who cares? We can read, wander around the town with umbrellas, and eat out. Sounds like a winner.
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