Monday, May 28, 2018
More Nature
Snake Pit
It seems each year I buy a new garden hose, the lightweight type that supposedly retracts itself. (Don't believe it.) They need replacing because they are of fabric. The hose holder attached to the front of our house is metal, so I think that may be the reason why the hose deteriorates. So this year, I again invested in a new hose, but decided to not coil it around the metal hanger, but just lay it on the concrete block. I have to admit that almost every time I walk past it, I get an adrenaline rush. Hoses, snakes---they can appear to be the same.
*By checking the pool (which Joe has opened) I mean looking in and maybe turning on the filter. Today I saw 2 bumblebees floating on the surface, each separately clinging to a leaf. I had the thought of using the pool skimmer to rescue them, but decided against it, letting nature take its course. That immense, all encompassing Nature, which cares about nothing. Don't personify it by calling it Mother; it has no feelings or humanity.
Saturday, May 26, 2018
Monday, May 21, 2018
JENGA!
For the last month or so, when in Troy, I've noticed a white wall being built behind the Stewart's at 10th and Hoosick Street. I wondered why the wall was being built. Sonic is at the top of the quite steep hill behind Stewart's. Driving past, it looked as if the wall was being built of tiles.
Today, I drove past, and the whole of the construction has tumbled down the hill. It looks as if some of the blocks either hit or narrowly missed the back side of the Stewart's building. And now that they're down and visible, each block appears to be about half the size of an automobile. It looks as if the base for the construction was a pile of sand, but maybe that's just the resulting avalanche.
Just don't call it a retaining wall.
Today, I drove past, and the whole of the construction has tumbled down the hill. It looks as if some of the blocks either hit or narrowly missed the back side of the Stewart's building. And now that they're down and visible, each block appears to be about half the size of an automobile. It looks as if the base for the construction was a pile of sand, but maybe that's just the resulting avalanche.
Just don't call it a retaining wall.
Friday, May 18, 2018
Lilac Legacy
My mother's lilacs were (and still are) the most spectacular in the area. These are their descendants---all I have.
Thursday, May 17, 2018
Self Flagellation--of a sort
Not the act with a whip, but of immersing oneself in extreme criticism.
If an ex- FBI Director can use it to his advantage or as a means of finding peace, why should I not engage in the same pursuit.
I have in my house an automatic bread-making machine. They were very popular some years ago, but lost popularity, in the fashion of the Milkshake Duck.
It seems no one wants a bread making machine anymore, so before throwing it in the trash, I decided, hey, why not give it one more try at producing a loaf of home baked bread. Like Oprah, I too love bread.
I have a distant memory of having used the machine once before, with so-so results. There was nothing special about the bread. I seem to recall that maybe there was some issue with the ingredients. The yeast may have been too old, or, more likely, I'd used all-purpose flour instead of the recommended bread flour.
This time, for its swan song, will be different. I bought new yeast packets and, for the first time in memory, invested in bread flour. I carefully followed all directions, cleaned and inserted the kneading blade, loaded all ingredients into the bread pan, selected the basic program, and pressed Start. The machine turned on and after the designated time of something over 3 hours, the beep sounded, signaling the bread was baked and ready.
If an ex- FBI Director can use it to his advantage or as a means of finding peace, why should I not engage in the same pursuit.
I have in my house an automatic bread-making machine. They were very popular some years ago, but lost popularity, in the fashion of the Milkshake Duck.
It seems no one wants a bread making machine anymore, so before throwing it in the trash, I decided, hey, why not give it one more try at producing a loaf of home baked bread. Like Oprah, I too love bread.
I have a distant memory of having used the machine once before, with so-so results. There was nothing special about the bread. I seem to recall that maybe there was some issue with the ingredients. The yeast may have been too old, or, more likely, I'd used all-purpose flour instead of the recommended bread flour.
This time, for its swan song, will be different. I bought new yeast packets and, for the first time in memory, invested in bread flour. I carefully followed all directions, cleaned and inserted the kneading blade, loaded all ingredients into the bread pan, selected the basic program, and pressed Start. The machine turned on and after the designated time of something over 3 hours, the beep sounded, signaling the bread was baked and ready.
Wednesday, May 16, 2018
Reading and Writhing
YeGads, I'm reading a book, am almost halfway through. Of the autobiographical genre, I would have called it, but the writer calls it a memoir. I guess that makes a difference, in regard to lawsuits and such. Two observations I've made: I'm viewing the author from a different perspective than before I started reading the book, and I realize I could never write this type of book about myself.
The writer takes an in-depth analytical approach to life in general and human behavior in particular. His efforts to be rational and reasonable and to treat everyone equally in the name of justice translates to his viewing himself in the same light. What he perceives as flaws in his character and mistakes he has made are examined and described with a scrutiny that presents him as less than admirable, and he acknowledges that. I suppose that can be perceived as a manifestation of superiority by some critics: "Here I am, with all my shortcomings laid right out before you, so I deserve to be respected, if not admired, for that." His mantra is the truth must be told, in the name of justice and democracy, and it was his responsibility to uphold what is the basis for our country.
He does not seem to refrain from detailing accounts of his less than admirable behavior, even when no one but himself could have been aware of how he acted, or even thought. He recounts how when he was a youngster, a robber broke into his home where he was alone with his brother. The robber held a gun to his head, and threatened him and he was sure he was going to be killed. In the depths of his fear, he spilled everything he could to try to save his life, directing the burglar to every last source of cash that was in the house, and even denouncing his parents, saying he didn't care enough about them to try to identify who had robbed them, He writes that his brother had money in his pocket which he kept secret, and seemed more in control of his situation. That is why I say I could not write this kind of memoir about myself; while I might confess to unadmirable character traits that were in the public domain, I would not want to admit to despicable behavior that was known only to myself.
A HIGHER LOYALTY comprises 14 chapters, and 281 pages. Only Chapter 12 deals with Trump, and it is 17 pages long. All the media controversy about the release of the book centered on its attack of the president. It's difficult to believe that was the purpose for writing the book. The author is a deep thinker who'd expected to be secure in his job as FBI Director for years to come, and suddenly found himself without a job which he loved. The book covers his body of work, dealing with subjects from Watergate to Waterboarding, and his views and opinions on the various presidents he'd interacted with. His memoir also describes the love and respect he has for his wife, and the heartbreak they felt when their baby son died shortly after birth.
I would suspect that few political commentators, supporters and detractors alike, have read more of the book than the chapter called "Trump Tower."
The writer takes an in-depth analytical approach to life in general and human behavior in particular. His efforts to be rational and reasonable and to treat everyone equally in the name of justice translates to his viewing himself in the same light. What he perceives as flaws in his character and mistakes he has made are examined and described with a scrutiny that presents him as less than admirable, and he acknowledges that. I suppose that can be perceived as a manifestation of superiority by some critics: "Here I am, with all my shortcomings laid right out before you, so I deserve to be respected, if not admired, for that." His mantra is the truth must be told, in the name of justice and democracy, and it was his responsibility to uphold what is the basis for our country.
He does not seem to refrain from detailing accounts of his less than admirable behavior, even when no one but himself could have been aware of how he acted, or even thought. He recounts how when he was a youngster, a robber broke into his home where he was alone with his brother. The robber held a gun to his head, and threatened him and he was sure he was going to be killed. In the depths of his fear, he spilled everything he could to try to save his life, directing the burglar to every last source of cash that was in the house, and even denouncing his parents, saying he didn't care enough about them to try to identify who had robbed them, He writes that his brother had money in his pocket which he kept secret, and seemed more in control of his situation. That is why I say I could not write this kind of memoir about myself; while I might confess to unadmirable character traits that were in the public domain, I would not want to admit to despicable behavior that was known only to myself.
A HIGHER LOYALTY comprises 14 chapters, and 281 pages. Only Chapter 12 deals with Trump, and it is 17 pages long. All the media controversy about the release of the book centered on its attack of the president. It's difficult to believe that was the purpose for writing the book. The author is a deep thinker who'd expected to be secure in his job as FBI Director for years to come, and suddenly found himself without a job which he loved. The book covers his body of work, dealing with subjects from Watergate to Waterboarding, and his views and opinions on the various presidents he'd interacted with. His memoir also describes the love and respect he has for his wife, and the heartbreak they felt when their baby son died shortly after birth.
I would suspect that few political commentators, supporters and detractors alike, have read more of the book than the chapter called "Trump Tower."
Tuesday, May 15, 2018
Literary Lessons
When I was young---that is, before I married and had kids----I used to spend as much time as I could reading, all types of books. I especially was interested in historical novels, not for the history per se, but for the intensity of the characterization of the many individuals who were players in whatever story was being told. Through hundreds of pages, the characters were so finely and thoroughly developed that the reader felt more understanding of them and what motivated them than with real-life people. The author described them physically and psychologically in greater detail than could be known about one's contemporaries.
Many of the figure in literature had complicated thought processes and some had devious minds. Loyalty, betrayal, reparation, pride and, yes, prejudice were all powerful forces in motivation, and there was no particular hurry to extract whatever justice, or revenge, was deemed due. Strategy may thought to have been abandoned, but by the climax of the novel, was found to have been a perpetual force in how life played out. Some things were never forgotten, but put on the back burner until the time was right.
It seems in today's society actions are taken rashly without much thought to consequences. What happens today is forgotten tomorrow. Or so some think, those who have failed to explore the complexities of human behavior, which the authors of yesterday developed in their characters, both good and the evil, as in Shakespeare's villains and heroes. If today we tend to ignore what goes on in people's minds, that does not mean that something has not been etched in their minds forever. We see people acting out the drama of what happened to them years ago, some slight or insult unable to be forgotten. As witness the inexplicable atrocities that psychiatrists and human behaviorists attempt, too late, to find a reason for.
World leaders would be major characters in any book ever written. Assume their mental makeup and massive egos have led to their status, and assume further that they are hypersensitive to anything that affects them in any way. From intelligence gleaned from even reading about the workings of the minds of others, one should be able to recognize the sensitivity of the other, as equivalent at least to his own.
To be blinded by one's own sense of self to the risk of denigrating another power player is a dangerous failing. We have on the world stage at present two such figures. If one insults the other by name calling, for instance, the result is not just a similar retort, but most likely a lifelong resentment and a desire for revenge, especially in a brutal ego-driven world leader.
If one unloads epithets and insults, and thinks they will be forgotten, that has to be a grave mistake. If one player is half the age of the other, strategy favors youth, with as much as 50 years to plan that strategy. Or much less, if the younger has already served up the older as a world class sucker who cannot realize his own shortcomings and so is doomed to levy disaster not only upon himself, but on the country he represents.
Many of the figure in literature had complicated thought processes and some had devious minds. Loyalty, betrayal, reparation, pride and, yes, prejudice were all powerful forces in motivation, and there was no particular hurry to extract whatever justice, or revenge, was deemed due. Strategy may thought to have been abandoned, but by the climax of the novel, was found to have been a perpetual force in how life played out. Some things were never forgotten, but put on the back burner until the time was right.
It seems in today's society actions are taken rashly without much thought to consequences. What happens today is forgotten tomorrow. Or so some think, those who have failed to explore the complexities of human behavior, which the authors of yesterday developed in their characters, both good and the evil, as in Shakespeare's villains and heroes. If today we tend to ignore what goes on in people's minds, that does not mean that something has not been etched in their minds forever. We see people acting out the drama of what happened to them years ago, some slight or insult unable to be forgotten. As witness the inexplicable atrocities that psychiatrists and human behaviorists attempt, too late, to find a reason for.
World leaders would be major characters in any book ever written. Assume their mental makeup and massive egos have led to their status, and assume further that they are hypersensitive to anything that affects them in any way. From intelligence gleaned from even reading about the workings of the minds of others, one should be able to recognize the sensitivity of the other, as equivalent at least to his own.
To be blinded by one's own sense of self to the risk of denigrating another power player is a dangerous failing. We have on the world stage at present two such figures. If one insults the other by name calling, for instance, the result is not just a similar retort, but most likely a lifelong resentment and a desire for revenge, especially in a brutal ego-driven world leader.
If one unloads epithets and insults, and thinks they will be forgotten, that has to be a grave mistake. If one player is half the age of the other, strategy favors youth, with as much as 50 years to plan that strategy. Or much less, if the younger has already served up the older as a world class sucker who cannot realize his own shortcomings and so is doomed to levy disaster not only upon himself, but on the country he represents.
Spring trees
Monday, May 14, 2018
What's in a name?
Note to Town of Milton: Your fund-seeking efforts may be well founded, but mightn't you reconsider the name of the facility. "Boyhaven" sounds a little creepy, don't you think?
Sunday, May 13, 2018
Friday, May 11, 2018
Monday, May 7, 2018
No, thank ye, Lychee.
Today I opened the refrigerator and spotted on the shelf, front and center, a restaurant-sized jelly container. I know it's recent because there's not much in the refrigerator. I don't remember putting it there, but someone obviously did, guess it could have been me.
I decided to spread it on my toast, but it was not very malleable, so I decided to read the label. What if it was jelly not to eat but for some other purpose? Yuck. The label read Jin Jin Lychee Jelly, with Chinese lettering. That seemed all right, but then I read, in English, the message, "Please take separate bite and chew before swallowing."
I threw the Lychee in the garbage. Why would there be instruction as to how to eat jelly. I'm not even sure what a Lychee is, but it sounds rather dangerous. Back to the Orange Marmalade for me.
I decided to spread it on my toast, but it was not very malleable, so I decided to read the label. What if it was jelly not to eat but for some other purpose? Yuck. The label read Jin Jin Lychee Jelly, with Chinese lettering. That seemed all right, but then I read, in English, the message, "Please take separate bite and chew before swallowing."
I threw the Lychee in the garbage. Why would there be instruction as to how to eat jelly. I'm not even sure what a Lychee is, but it sounds rather dangerous. Back to the Orange Marmalade for me.
From Bad to Worse
If you're ever in the hospital and think you might not be getting the care you deserve, here's what not to do: do not try to call 9-1-1 from your hospital room and say you think you are having a heart attack. The call will not go through, but what will happen is that the Crash Cart will show up in your room. I think they call it the Emergency Response Team, and they will show up in your room within seconds of your call,even in the dead of night, with about 11 team members and all the equipment needed to try to save your life. They will spend a considerable amount of time with you, checking your vitals and running tests.
The next morning a doctor and an assistant (think good cop/ bad cop) will enter your room and tell you that you're going home today. The doctor will be no-nonsense stern: the assistant, trying for the human touch, will let you know you're acting on wrong information. Never mind about the heart attack; evidently there is a blood test that can pretty much definitively rule that out, regardless of your description of classic heart attack symptoms. Don't bother crying: they're not moved by that. Forget threatening to inform your sure-to-be-irate family members: they're totally unimpressed by that. Tell them you live miles away, in the rural mountains, and you don't have any transportation; they will arrange for you to go by MediCab, reimbursable by your insurance, they say. Tell them you feel sick, live alone, and are unable to care for yourself, and they will suggest you look into getting home health aides. To put it bluntly, you can't fight the system.
Remember the last song played by the band at closing time in the old nightclub days. "We don't care where you go, but you can't stay here."
The next morning a doctor and an assistant (think good cop/ bad cop) will enter your room and tell you that you're going home today. The doctor will be no-nonsense stern: the assistant, trying for the human touch, will let you know you're acting on wrong information. Never mind about the heart attack; evidently there is a blood test that can pretty much definitively rule that out, regardless of your description of classic heart attack symptoms. Don't bother crying: they're not moved by that. Forget threatening to inform your sure-to-be-irate family members: they're totally unimpressed by that. Tell them you live miles away, in the rural mountains, and you don't have any transportation; they will arrange for you to go by MediCab, reimbursable by your insurance, they say. Tell them you feel sick, live alone, and are unable to care for yourself, and they will suggest you look into getting home health aides. To put it bluntly, you can't fight the system.
Remember the last song played by the band at closing time in the old nightclub days. "We don't care where you go, but you can't stay here."
Sunday, May 6, 2018
American Idol Begone
I used to watch American Idol faithfully, back when it was new and different and followed the contestants for about 3 months. When the show and I were both much younger than now, I looked forward to viewing it and watching the contestants, even before Adam Lambert made his debut.
This season I didn't care to watch it, but a week or so ago I caught the episode where the final 14 were all performing so I made a point of watching. I think they disposed of 4 performers that night alone. Tonight the show came on and they were down to 7, and each performed twice, with the announcement that 2 would be eliminated at the end of the night.
Ordinarily, as in the past, I would have a favorite or two, and would feel sorry for the loss of the youthful contestants, who were living their dreams. Tonight, not only was I not rooting for a favorite, I wanted them all to go home: the nerdy girl who forgot her lyrics, the pretty girl who has a pleasant enough voice, but her tongue and nose piercings steal attention away from her singing, a pair of blonde girls who sing okay, but nothing special, a blonde boy billed as a teenage heart throb who reminds me of a character in a long-ago comic strip who I believe was called Lard (maybe it was Gasoline Alley?) a long-haired rocker who Katie Perry simulates a deep attraction for, but who to my mind resembles a piece of furniture (maybe an armoire or a vintage sideboard,) and a forcibly contrived charismatically labeled young performer, whose only drawback is that, in my admittedly non-professional opinion, is a remarkably poor singer, almost pitifully so. And not a single one of them is particularly appealing in the looks department. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
So the show is down to the final 5, though these last 7 will go on the american Idol tour. Anyway, so they are told, but one may wonder how the ticket sales will go. Could be a lot of cancellations booking that tour.
The nerdy girl and the pierced girl got booted off tonight. That leaves 3 boys, the sideboard, Lard and the non-singer, and the 2 blonde girls who I can't tell apart right now. It's hard to believe that one of them will be the next America Idol.
(I'm trying to recall that long ago season finale when Marilyn was driving Dorothy and me out to Cape Cod, where the boys (Dave and Joe) already were. I can't remember how that came about, but I know there was a monstrously heavy rainstorm and it was dark and when we got there, Joe had left a message on the door about the 2 finalists that he called Mo'Ice and Scary Underwear. Or something like that. Back in the good old days.
This season I didn't care to watch it, but a week or so ago I caught the episode where the final 14 were all performing so I made a point of watching. I think they disposed of 4 performers that night alone. Tonight the show came on and they were down to 7, and each performed twice, with the announcement that 2 would be eliminated at the end of the night.
Ordinarily, as in the past, I would have a favorite or two, and would feel sorry for the loss of the youthful contestants, who were living their dreams. Tonight, not only was I not rooting for a favorite, I wanted them all to go home: the nerdy girl who forgot her lyrics, the pretty girl who has a pleasant enough voice, but her tongue and nose piercings steal attention away from her singing, a pair of blonde girls who sing okay, but nothing special, a blonde boy billed as a teenage heart throb who reminds me of a character in a long-ago comic strip who I believe was called Lard (maybe it was Gasoline Alley?) a long-haired rocker who Katie Perry simulates a deep attraction for, but who to my mind resembles a piece of furniture (maybe an armoire or a vintage sideboard,) and a forcibly contrived charismatically labeled young performer, whose only drawback is that, in my admittedly non-professional opinion, is a remarkably poor singer, almost pitifully so. And not a single one of them is particularly appealing in the looks department. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
So the show is down to the final 5, though these last 7 will go on the american Idol tour. Anyway, so they are told, but one may wonder how the ticket sales will go. Could be a lot of cancellations booking that tour.
The nerdy girl and the pierced girl got booted off tonight. That leaves 3 boys, the sideboard, Lard and the non-singer, and the 2 blonde girls who I can't tell apart right now. It's hard to believe that one of them will be the next America Idol.
(I'm trying to recall that long ago season finale when Marilyn was driving Dorothy and me out to Cape Cod, where the boys (Dave and Joe) already were. I can't remember how that came about, but I know there was a monstrously heavy rainstorm and it was dark and when we got there, Joe had left a message on the door about the 2 finalists that he called Mo'Ice and Scary Underwear. Or something like that. Back in the good old days.
Thursday, May 3, 2018
Milkshake Duck and Jumping the Shark
So Roseanne Barr is back promoting her show from over 30 years ago, as if it's an icon of American culture that just happened to disappear for a while. She claims that the love among the cast members is so strong that the interval since the show last aired feels like only a week.
She says that the original set had been destroyed but has been painstakingly replicated, even down to the wallpaper. I used to watch the show pretty much every week, along with a number of other half-hour sitcoms typical of the time. I do recall the set, doodads, and tackiness and all, meant to represent grassroots working-class American households.
But am I the only one who remembers what happened in that kitchen with its iconic wallpaper. The show jumped the shark in the form of a Beverly Hills transformation when the family fell into tremendous wealth. With the show's fading ratings, I'd stopped watching regularly by then so I don't remember exactly what transformed their lifestyle---maybe a winning lottery ticket. But they moved--bigtime--and left their old digs behind. Only today's TV audience members are lured into the nostalgia of what is a fake image of the past.
Neither do I remember what became of Roseanne when the show soon after ran its course. But in contrast to the virginal, compassionate image she now presents on the talk shows, I do recall some bitter happenings. Such as undergoing some psycho-babble encounters where she was regressed to her early childhood, and publicly proclaimed that her own father had sexually abused her when she was a child. She'd had no memory of such until she underwent the psychotherapy sessions. Her father was dismayed at the charges, and vehemently denied them. I can't remember (and don't feel like looking up) whether he died as an accused man or, as I may correctly recall, that Roseanne subsequently retracted the charges.
Cut to the present. I intended to watch the show in its entirety last week, with as open a mind as I'm capable of. Let's see what the show is about. Roseanne and her husband and sister spent the opening minutes of the show bitterly attacking her mother, who was staying with the Connors family due to her adverse circumstances. The mother's money was gone, so no one wanted her, the sister admitted hating her, and they ended up choosing lots to see who would take her first, in what was to be a weekly exchange. Now this may be a problem facing a lot of families today, but it's never amusing or entertaining or educational to spew hatred and vitriol against an elderly parent, is it?
(I suspect the show is soon to go down in TV history as the epitome of the Milkshake Duck. But I could of course be wrong.)
She says that the original set had been destroyed but has been painstakingly replicated, even down to the wallpaper. I used to watch the show pretty much every week, along with a number of other half-hour sitcoms typical of the time. I do recall the set, doodads, and tackiness and all, meant to represent grassroots working-class American households.
But am I the only one who remembers what happened in that kitchen with its iconic wallpaper. The show jumped the shark in the form of a Beverly Hills transformation when the family fell into tremendous wealth. With the show's fading ratings, I'd stopped watching regularly by then so I don't remember exactly what transformed their lifestyle---maybe a winning lottery ticket. But they moved--bigtime--and left their old digs behind. Only today's TV audience members are lured into the nostalgia of what is a fake image of the past.
Neither do I remember what became of Roseanne when the show soon after ran its course. But in contrast to the virginal, compassionate image she now presents on the talk shows, I do recall some bitter happenings. Such as undergoing some psycho-babble encounters where she was regressed to her early childhood, and publicly proclaimed that her own father had sexually abused her when she was a child. She'd had no memory of such until she underwent the psychotherapy sessions. Her father was dismayed at the charges, and vehemently denied them. I can't remember (and don't feel like looking up) whether he died as an accused man or, as I may correctly recall, that Roseanne subsequently retracted the charges.
Cut to the present. I intended to watch the show in its entirety last week, with as open a mind as I'm capable of. Let's see what the show is about. Roseanne and her husband and sister spent the opening minutes of the show bitterly attacking her mother, who was staying with the Connors family due to her adverse circumstances. The mother's money was gone, so no one wanted her, the sister admitted hating her, and they ended up choosing lots to see who would take her first, in what was to be a weekly exchange. Now this may be a problem facing a lot of families today, but it's never amusing or entertaining or educational to spew hatred and vitriol against an elderly parent, is it?
(I suspect the show is soon to go down in TV history as the epitome of the Milkshake Duck. But I could of course be wrong.)
Wednesday, May 2, 2018
P.U.
Every once in a while, I read doctors' reviews, where patients or ex-patients feel free to say what they think of their physicians. The reviews are probably mostly unreliable as indicators of medical competency or expertise, because, face it, most of us do not go onsite to critique our doctors. Still, where there is a large number of comments left for a particular doctor, you could gain some insight. In any case, the comments can make for some interesting reading.
As I scrolled through a list of local specialists, I noted one review gave the lowest possible rating, and that person left a comment. Naturally, I looked and read this: Patient says the doctor asked him if he worked with animals. The patient said no. Then the doctor asked him if he bathed. The patient was mortified, advised all would-be patients to avoid this doctor with the sensitive nose.
As I scrolled through a list of local specialists, I noted one review gave the lowest possible rating, and that person left a comment. Naturally, I looked and read this: Patient says the doctor asked him if he worked with animals. The patient said no. Then the doctor asked him if he bathed. The patient was mortified, advised all would-be patients to avoid this doctor with the sensitive nose.
Tuesday, May 1, 2018
Flowers and DWTS
As for DWTS: Johnny, we hardly knew ye. (I always said you never should have cut your hair.)
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