Today marks the 270th anniversary of the Battle of Culloden, which hasn't happened yet for Claire and Jamie. Chills.
The title sequence shows a women getting dressed in the 18th century French fashion. This juxtaposes nicely with last season's showing of Claire getting her Scottish gear on. Fewer layers!
Oh look, Claire and Jamie have their groove back. And yet....
Shades of Spartacus, another Starz production.
Wait, did I miss something? Do we know that for sure?
Servants have pride, too. I hope they really are trustworthy.
Imagine going back in time to before the Twin Towers were even built. Same feeling, really, for Claire.
Talk about making a spectacle of yourself. Clearly the game plan does not include easing into society from the back.
Murtagh speaks French, after all. Aw, he misses Rupert and Angus! Clever nicknames.
I didn't think Jamie could be hotter, but I was wrong. I'm not sure about the queue, though.
This madam would make a killing selling Avon.
Bonnie Prince Charlie is kinda girly, and desperate. Sweat much?
Slow clap for Murtagh.
What was that sign, Jamie?
The pain of waxing transcends time.
Hello! I knew that was coming, but yikes!
Jamie learns about bikini waxes.
Son-of-a! Dude's not even there, but he's still ruining their lives.
Talk about a "staircase moment"!
Sorry Jamie, her dress is actually conservative. And geez, could they make that dress any wider?
Ha! Poor Murtagh!
What was the audition for the part of the king like, I wonder? "Can you act constipated?"
Murtagh likey!
The Duke seems to have orchestrated that meeting, doesn't he.
Secrets will out, Claire.
Saturday, April 16, 2016
Review of "MacLean's Passion" by Sharon Cullen
Shades of Black Jack.
Say what? Ooh, this is getting good already.
Geez, I couldn't go all day without peeing.
You just busted out, and now you want to continue smuggling? Talk about balls.
Because every hissy fit should end in signing up for freakin' war...
Really, Gilroy? And just what is the "honest truth"?
I could never wear that many layers. Then again, those castles were drafty!
Oh, to have a tape recorder handy right now.
I'm really not liking her brother at all.
Too much information there, Innis. Haha.
Worst. Honeymoon. Ever.
Brice is a good friend.
For a tomboy virgin, she certainly knows what she's doing in the bedroom.
Die, redcoats.
Aw, you rock, Duff!
I'm reading this on the anniversary of the Battle of Culloden. Very meta.
I received an ARC from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
****
Say what? Ooh, this is getting good already.
Geez, I couldn't go all day without peeing.
You just busted out, and now you want to continue smuggling? Talk about balls.
Because every hissy fit should end in signing up for freakin' war...
Really, Gilroy? And just what is the "honest truth"?
I could never wear that many layers. Then again, those castles were drafty!
Oh, to have a tape recorder handy right now.
I'm really not liking her brother at all.
Too much information there, Innis. Haha.
Worst. Honeymoon. Ever.
Brice is a good friend.
For a tomboy virgin, she certainly knows what she's doing in the bedroom.
Die, redcoats.
Aw, you rock, Duff!
I'm reading this on the anniversary of the Battle of Culloden. Very meta.
I received an ARC from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
****
Monday, April 11, 2016
IT"S NOT YOUR STALL!!!
Let me tell you a story. A few months ago, I was at Penn Station, waiting to use the handicapped stall in the bathroom. I have to use the bathroom where I can find it, really, so I couldn't just go somewhere else and hope I could use one at the next place. Even Starbucks is not always reliable.
So I'm waiting. I'm usually patient. I get it. When you gotta go, you gotta go. Especially if you're a woman. Five minutes went by. The attendant noticed me still waiting and banged on the stall door. Obviously she was taller than me, and could see inside the stall. The non-handicapped woman was sitting there reading on her phone!
The handicapped stall is not your personal spa room. It is to be used by people in wheelchairs and those using canes, crutches and walkers. It is not to give you more room to spread out. I've been waiting for the stall, and three women (and their suitcases) come out!
Many people are embarrassed, and immediately apologize upon seeing the handicapped woman waiting for the handicapped stall. I try not to knock to hurry people up, but sometimes it's necessary. Other times they just walk past me, as if the extra room is their due.
Basically, follow the Golden Rule, because one day, the wheelchair might be supporting your legs.
So I'm waiting. I'm usually patient. I get it. When you gotta go, you gotta go. Especially if you're a woman. Five minutes went by. The attendant noticed me still waiting and banged on the stall door. Obviously she was taller than me, and could see inside the stall. The non-handicapped woman was sitting there reading on her phone!
The handicapped stall is not your personal spa room. It is to be used by people in wheelchairs and those using canes, crutches and walkers. It is not to give you more room to spread out. I've been waiting for the stall, and three women (and their suitcases) come out!
Many people are embarrassed, and immediately apologize upon seeing the handicapped woman waiting for the handicapped stall. I try not to knock to hurry people up, but sometimes it's necessary. Other times they just walk past me, as if the extra room is their due.
Basically, follow the Golden Rule, because one day, the wheelchair might be supporting your legs.
My New Facebook Fan Page!
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Saturday, April 9, 2016
But It's the Law!
Whenever I go to the city, which is maybe once a month, I'm usually alone. I have zero social life, and it's easier to go without my family. They're usually not interested in what I want to do, anyway. They enjoy my stories, though!
I go to Broadway shows, movie premieres; basically, anywhere I can see and/or meet a celebrity. I'm honestly lucky to be in a wheelchair. Sometimes. I've been in the front row at concerts, assumed to be press at Fashion's Night Out, and the only one on line to get two hugs from John Stamos at the stage door of "Bye Bye Birdie". Those middle-aged ladies about died!
Then there are those other times. The times when it would be easier to be able to walk. When I go out, I have to plan my route beforehand. I have to give myself plenty of time before an event, hours even. Usually my mother drives me to the train station, but I also use Able-Ride, a shared bus service here on Long Island. They are notoriously late.
Once I actually get to the city, I have two options: walk or use the bus. Buses are a hassle because if they are full, I always feel bad making someone stand. Subways are impossible because I can't just jump over the gap. Taxis are just now becoming wheelchair-accessible, but they have never stopped to pick me up, even in the rain. They have tried to run me over, though!
Luckily, people are mostly willing to help me cross the street. There are those that will just watch you as you struggle, but thank God some people are angels. Then the real fun begins. I can't tell you how many times I've been asked why I don't have an umbrella in the rain. Where would you suggest I put it? I certainly cannot propel a wheelchair and hold onto an umbrella at the same time! And some people have experience pushing wheelchairs, while others find every crack and pothole in the city.
I have recently gotten a cup-holder for my chair. This means I can finally drink during the day. Before, I wouldn't be able to just pop in and out of Starbucks with a to-go cup. I would have to sit down at a restaurant or a cafe. This leads to another problem:finding a bathroom that I can fit in with my chair and easily transfer to and from the commode. Not every building has one that meets my requirements. Many places seem to think the handicap stall needs to be just a few inches wider. That is simply not enough room. This means that I have to use the same few restaurants and offices, over and over. Trying a new restaurant just creates anxiety. "Handicapped-accessible" means different things to different people. Until you are actually in a wheelchair, you don't know what that means.
When I tell people this, their response is always "But there's a law!" This is the law: http://construction.about.com/od/Inspection/a/Ada-Regulations-For-Handicapped-Bathrooms.htm. But really, does every business follow the law to the letter? And what about buildings built before 1990?
Even getting on and off the train is a pain. I need a ramp to clear the gap. I have to wait for a conductor to notice me. Usually that means that my fellow passengers help me get on, because a conductor never seems to be around when you need them. And have you been in the elevator at Penn Station? Ew!
People often tell me I'm "brave" to be coming into the city by myself. I guess from their perspective, that's true. But isn't that true for anyone, disabled or not?
I go to Broadway shows, movie premieres; basically, anywhere I can see and/or meet a celebrity. I'm honestly lucky to be in a wheelchair. Sometimes. I've been in the front row at concerts, assumed to be press at Fashion's Night Out, and the only one on line to get two hugs from John Stamos at the stage door of "Bye Bye Birdie". Those middle-aged ladies about died!
Then there are those other times. The times when it would be easier to be able to walk. When I go out, I have to plan my route beforehand. I have to give myself plenty of time before an event, hours even. Usually my mother drives me to the train station, but I also use Able-Ride, a shared bus service here on Long Island. They are notoriously late.
Once I actually get to the city, I have two options: walk or use the bus. Buses are a hassle because if they are full, I always feel bad making someone stand. Subways are impossible because I can't just jump over the gap. Taxis are just now becoming wheelchair-accessible, but they have never stopped to pick me up, even in the rain. They have tried to run me over, though!
Luckily, people are mostly willing to help me cross the street. There are those that will just watch you as you struggle, but thank God some people are angels. Then the real fun begins. I can't tell you how many times I've been asked why I don't have an umbrella in the rain. Where would you suggest I put it? I certainly cannot propel a wheelchair and hold onto an umbrella at the same time! And some people have experience pushing wheelchairs, while others find every crack and pothole in the city.
I have recently gotten a cup-holder for my chair. This means I can finally drink during the day. Before, I wouldn't be able to just pop in and out of Starbucks with a to-go cup. I would have to sit down at a restaurant or a cafe. This leads to another problem:finding a bathroom that I can fit in with my chair and easily transfer to and from the commode. Not every building has one that meets my requirements. Many places seem to think the handicap stall needs to be just a few inches wider. That is simply not enough room. This means that I have to use the same few restaurants and offices, over and over. Trying a new restaurant just creates anxiety. "Handicapped-accessible" means different things to different people. Until you are actually in a wheelchair, you don't know what that means.
When I tell people this, their response is always "But there's a law!" This is the law: http://construction.about.com/od/Inspection/a/Ada-Regulations-For-Handicapped-Bathrooms.htm. But really, does every business follow the law to the letter? And what about buildings built before 1990?
Even getting on and off the train is a pain. I need a ramp to clear the gap. I have to wait for a conductor to notice me. Usually that means that my fellow passengers help me get on, because a conductor never seems to be around when you need them. And have you been in the elevator at Penn Station? Ew!
People often tell me I'm "brave" to be coming into the city by myself. I guess from their perspective, that's true. But isn't that true for anyone, disabled or not?
Review of "Be Here Now: The Andy Whitfield Story"
I was lucky enough to attend last night's premiere screening of this wonderful documentary.
being that Andy was living in Australia, where his wife and children still live, I enjoyed a delicious meat pie and tried Tim-Tam for the first time. Where has that chocolate-y goodness been all my life?
I arrived early to the theater, as I had to take two buses. They were offering a chance to have dinner with Vashti Whitfield and the filmmaker, Lilibet Foster, in exchange for a donation to the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. I am happy to report that I did see some people getting the upgraded ticket.
When Vashti entered the theater, the air changed. She was happy to see us, and we were all happy to see her. She was very gracious and made sure to greet every person there, whether they were press, fans or her own friends who had traveled from across the globe.
I was expecting the documentary to be very sad, and assumed I would spend the next two hours bawling my eyes out. Instead, I found myself laughing and smiling for most of the film. This is because Andy and Vashti spent most of their time thinking positively. They were either cracking jokes and yelling "F-ing cancer!" or they were spending time with their beautiful children, Jesse and India.
What also struck me was how their approach to treating the cancer differed. I had assumed, from reading her inspirational blog Maybe McQueen, that Vashti would be in favor of alternative treatment. Instead, it was Andy who wanted to explore Eastern medicine, and Vashti who wanted him to undergo chemotherapy. This being his second bout of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, Andy understandably was trying to avoid chemotherapy as much as possible. He even makes a point of saying chemotherapy kills off good cells as well as bad ones.
It was heartbreaking to see him go to India to explore treatment, consult motivation and meditation experts, and still have to resort to chemotherapy. Unfortunately, neither chemotherapy nor radiation worked on this particular strain of the disease. Even his doctors were baffled. Through it all, Andy accepted that he might die sooner rather than later. And he was okay with that.
Andy Whitfield died in New Zealand in 2011, at the age of 39. His wife and children were able to be with him. He had gone there to explore more treatment, and took a sudden turn for the worse,
*****
being that Andy was living in Australia, where his wife and children still live, I enjoyed a delicious meat pie and tried Tim-Tam for the first time. Where has that chocolate-y goodness been all my life?
When Vashti entered the theater, the air changed. She was happy to see us, and we were all happy to see her. She was very gracious and made sure to greet every person there, whether they were press, fans or her own friends who had traveled from across the globe.
 |
| Vashti, Lilibet and Andy's co-manager Sam Maydew introducing the film |
I was expecting the documentary to be very sad, and assumed I would spend the next two hours bawling my eyes out. Instead, I found myself laughing and smiling for most of the film. This is because Andy and Vashti spent most of their time thinking positively. They were either cracking jokes and yelling "F-ing cancer!" or they were spending time with their beautiful children, Jesse and India.
What also struck me was how their approach to treating the cancer differed. I had assumed, from reading her inspirational blog Maybe McQueen, that Vashti would be in favor of alternative treatment. Instead, it was Andy who wanted to explore Eastern medicine, and Vashti who wanted him to undergo chemotherapy. This being his second bout of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, Andy understandably was trying to avoid chemotherapy as much as possible. He even makes a point of saying chemotherapy kills off good cells as well as bad ones.
 |
| Jai Courtney, who played Varro on "Spartacus", joined them for the Q&A |
It was heartbreaking to see him go to India to explore treatment, consult motivation and meditation experts, and still have to resort to chemotherapy. Unfortunately, neither chemotherapy nor radiation worked on this particular strain of the disease. Even his doctors were baffled. Through it all, Andy accepted that he might die sooner rather than later. And he was okay with that.
Andy Whitfield died in New Zealand in 2011, at the age of 39. His wife and children were able to be with him. He had gone there to explore more treatment, and took a sudden turn for the worse,
*****
Review of Outlander Season 2 Episode 1
I was able to watch episode 1 of Season 2 early. I was struck by the similarities between the episode and the first episode of season 1. They were almost mirror-images of each other.
Season 1:
1. The first half-an-hour, Claire is living a "normal" life. The last half, she is in a strange time and place.
2. She mistakes Black Jack for Frank.
3. Everyone around her speaks Gaelic, and she doesn't know what they are saying, and neither does the audience.
4. She and Frank are trying to have a baby.
5. The first sign that she is truly in the past that she accepts is that there are no electric lights on in Inverness.
Season 2:
1. She is in a "strange" world for the first half, and then we return to her new "normal".
2. Frank displays some very Black Jack-like behavior. Tobias Menzies, you so need an Emmy!
3. Claire seems to speak perfect French, while Jamie apparently struggles with it. I don't think Murtagh speaks French at all. Subtitles abound.
4. She's pregnant with Jamie's child.
5. Loud noises bother her in the future. She adapted to the past very well.
Season 1:
1. The first half-an-hour, Claire is living a "normal" life. The last half, she is in a strange time and place.
2. She mistakes Black Jack for Frank.
3. Everyone around her speaks Gaelic, and she doesn't know what they are saying, and neither does the audience.
4. She and Frank are trying to have a baby.
5. The first sign that she is truly in the past that she accepts is that there are no electric lights on in Inverness.
Season 2:
1. She is in a "strange" world for the first half, and then we return to her new "normal".
2. Frank displays some very Black Jack-like behavior. Tobias Menzies, you so need an Emmy!
3. Claire seems to speak perfect French, while Jamie apparently struggles with it. I don't think Murtagh speaks French at all. Subtitles abound.
4. She's pregnant with Jamie's child.
5. Loud noises bother her in the future. She adapted to the past very well.
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