Summer Streaming II

Woman King

To Leslie

My Son

Almost Paradise (started, may not finish)

Jim Gaffigan (one episode)

Life After Life limited series (thanks to Lise)

Lincoln Lawyer (new season)

Beanie Bubble 

HiJack limited series

The Essex Serpent limited series

Fisk (Aussie series)

Atypical

Hanna

Derry Girls series (four episodes)

Dancing Queens

Lost Flower of Alice Hart (limited series)

The Mule 

The Wife

Love & Anarchy (two episodes)

A Map of the World

Lady Chatterley

Virgin River (new season)

Peanut Butter Falcon

The Bear (new season)

Murders Only in the Building (new season)

Monuments Men movie

Seeing One's Self

Recently, while attending a family function, I kept hearing a younger cousin go on and on about her hot flashes and the symptoms of menopause in general. At first, there were murmurs of sympathy and agreement here and there, yet after the drinks kept flowing on that warm afternoon, the complaints kept coming, but the audience had moved on. 

One of the thoughts that blew through my ears, "good golly, does she think she's the first person in the world to experience menopause?". Which immediately brought a smile to my face. Because I could see myself most likely doing the same both with my older sibs and the people I worked with. Yep! I can see it now. There I was, going on and on to anyone who might listen. 

My sincere apologies,

Love, K

Julia Roberts is Mother Nature

 Thanks to the person who shared this out in the wild ... 

But wait .... there's more! 

https://www.conservation.org/nature-is-speaking

A Poem

Sometimes I'll hear a reading of a poem that touches me with it's description of a moment. A moment that many can relate to.  The following is one I heard this morning on NPR:

"Written on the Due Date of a Son Never Born."
by David Wojahn

Echinacea, Bee Balm, Aster, Trumpet Vine, 

I watch your mother bend to prune, 

water sluicing silver from the hose. 

Another morning you will never see. 

Summer solstice, 

dragonflies flare, the un-petaled rose.

Six A.M. and already she's breaking down,

hose flung to the sidewalk where it snakes and pulses in a steady keening glitter,


 both hands to her face. 

That much I can give you of these hours. 

That much only, 

fists and blossom forged by salt,

trellising your wounded helixes against our days. 

Tell us how to live for we are shades,

facing, caged, the chastening sun. 

Our eyes are scorched and lidless.

 We cannot bear your light.

Just Be Kind . . .