When Will I Be Loved?

It was still a little cloudy when I got up around 8:30, but even at that point, the clouds weren't as dark as the last two days. I had cereal for breakfast and started the James Bond film The Living Daylights, currently the only movie in the series I have on commercial DVD. (And that's because I found it cheap at the Logan Presbyterian Church Thrift Shop.)

Most of the Roger Moore Bond movies had been popular, but with the exception of the deliberately stripped-down For Your Eyes Only, they were in a far lighter vein than the Connery entries. Shakespearean actor Timothy Dalton's two films in the late 80s were an attempt to return to the original lean, tough Bond...and generally, they're successful. Bond finds himself chasing a beautiful Russian cellist who is also an assassin when she attempts to kill a defecting KGB Agent. It turns out that neither the cellist nor the agent are what they appear to be. Bond and the cellist get caught up in the Russian-Afghanistan War when they discover that the agent is involved with an American arms dealer and Afghan rebels.

Most Bond fans are probably going to disagree with me, but along with Connery, Dalton has always been my favorite Bond. He and Connery come the closest to being like the nasty, tough-minded Bond in the books (which I have read, BTW), and they (and the even tougher Daniel Craig) both bring more dimensions to the character than the lighter interpretations of Bronsonan and Moore. That said, I actually prefer License to Kill for Dalton's Bond, but Living Daylights has it's moments, too. Love the sled ride on the cellist's case, Bond and the cellist at the amusement park in Vienna, and the finale at the arms dealer's home.

I stopped at the Acme for my paycheck. There was a long line, probably with people getting their beginning-of-the-month government checks cashed, and it took me a few minutes to get my money. I also picked up our new t-shirts for our summer uniforms.

After that, I went out to Lucile Roberts. On my way in, I encountered a young woman who took one look at the bag with my shirts, grinned, and said "Hey there, Acme girl!" She probably didn't mean anything offensive, but I bristled anyway. I don't like being identified by my job. I don't like my job. If it were up to me (and I'd been able to find a job closer to my skills and interests ages ago), I wouldn't have anything to do with that darn store but buying groceries there.

I took my frustration out on the elliptical machine. I did 20 minutes and burned over 200 calories, with the resistance set on 4. They didn't even run The Price Is Right until I was almost done. All of the broadcast networks were doing a special report on the SEPTA workers who split a huge lottery jackpot. When I finished there, I worked on the arm weight machines, then stretched.

Staples is on the same side of the mall as Lucile Roberts, so I made that my next stop. I was almost out of recordable DVDs. Though none of the large packs were on sale this time, I did get a pack of 20 Memorex discs for $10.40 with tax, which isn't bad.

Had less luck when I went across the mall to Fashion Bug. I didn't see any jean shorts there that even remotely interested me. All I wanted were two nice, simple pairs of Bermuda jean shorts like the ones I'm going to donate eventually. All of their shorts were either too short or Capris, artistically ripped, or covered in sequins and studs. No, no, no! I just need plain old every day shorts! I'll order them from L.L Bean or Land's End instead.

Finding somewhere to eat was impossible. I didn't feel like pizza or barbecue. The line at Chick 'Fil 'A was almost out the building. Arby's indoor seating was closed; only their drive-in window was serving. Sonic remains abandoned. I just did Golden Corral, and I didn't feel like a huge buffet meal anyway. I ended up at Five Guys, which serves hot dogs, burgers, and fries. I just bought a soda and a burger. The burger was a mistake. The two hockey-puck-sized patties slid off the bun, thanks to the so-called "grilled" mushrooms. I ate some of the patties and the lettuce, tomatoes, and pickles, but it wasn't much of a meal.

I went back to the Acme after lunch to do some quick grocery shopping. The Collingswood Farm Market will be opening tomorrow, so I'm going to wait on fruit, cheese, and vegetables. I did need to restock baking cocoa and I Can't Believe It's Not Butter after making the Chocolate Mint Muffins yesterday. Bought roasted almonds on sale, and ground chicken and dollar fish packs to replace what I used on meals this week. Mom said she puts flaxseed meal in her hot cereal and baked goods; thought I'd try it.

My schedule for next week just made me angrier. After today, I don't have a day off until NEXT Saturday! Oh, and I work until 9:30 almost every day this week. Granted, most of the hours are short, only 4 or 4 1/2, which does mean I'll still get a lot of cleaning done. It's still a pain, though. Angie claimed they'd just gotten two more people from other stores who had more senority than me and got first dibs on afternoon and evening hours. I just haven't worked long enough. When am I going to work long enough? When will I be important enough for them? When I'm 102? I'm really getting sick of this.

It was such a nice day, when I went home, I put everything away, finished The Living Daylights, and went right back out again. I needed to run a few errands. I stopped at a busy bank to deposit my paycheck, then moved down the White Horse Pike to Family Dollar. I normally avoid them. The store is none-too-clean and the staff is useless. They are, however, the cheapest place I can buy a broom and actually carry it home. I found a somewhat smaller one than the blue-gray model I found when I first moved in seven years ago. It'll be easier to use in my tiny bathroom.

I strolled around the neighborhood after I left Family Dollar to try to let off steam. The clouds had vanished completely by 3:30, leaving a beautiful, breezy, warm spring day. Oaklyn is a riot of color, from the soft lavender and indigo irises to the brilliant coral and hot pink blooms on the bushes to the large, bright yellow-green leaves. It's better than living in a Deluxe Crayola box. Needless to say, everyone was out and about - parents pushing strollers, teens texting each other, college students walking dogs, kids riding bikes.

When I got home, I blasted Linda Rondstat and continued spring cleaning. I used the new broom right away to sweep the porch, which badly needed it. It's just about the end of "fuzzy" seed pod season, and the porch was covered with wet globs of them from earlier in the week. They were clogging up the drains, too. I also swept out the very last of the winter-early spring sticker balls.

Next on the list was another round of vacuuming with the new Dirt Devil. I made the bed, then did the whole apartment, including all of the closets and the back room I could get to. You can tell I just vacuumed last week. This time, I had to clean the whole apartment to get a full canister.

It was too late to dust by the time I finished there. Instead, I made spiral sliced ham, Strawberry Flummery, and honey-glazed carrots for dinner and watched Three Amigos. The Three Amigos (Steve Martin, Chevy Chase, and Martin Short) are a trio of silent-era Hollywood actors who play Zorro-style Mexican do-gooders. However, their last movie was a flop, and their studio now considers them to be washed-up. They get a chance for redemption when a young woman and her brother call them to a Mexican town to save them from bandits. They think they're doing a show, but the bandits and the frightened townspeople are very real. All three learn a lesson in bravery and in standing up for your rights when they agree to rescue the young woman from the bandits and convince the town that the bullying has gone on long enough.

This is one of those random comedies in the 80s and early 90s you wouldn't have gone to see in the theater but never would have missed when it was on cable. (It's also one of the few of these comedies Dad bought on video in the 90s when our cable was turned off.) All three men have opportunities for fun, and Randy Newman provides some nice songs, including the hilarious "My Little Buttercup."