
I yawned and stretched at the crack of nine this morning and Dolly-girl, already into her second cup of joe--still blond with sand-- and maybe a pastry on the side and said, "Remember Jack, we're picking Dixie up at 11:30 sharp to catch Just Mercy at noon. I don't want to be late because that theater is likely to be full." "On it, DG. I'll just, oh never mind. I'll be ready to go.




Missy asked us in, settled us in a booth, and wasted no time getting beers down in front of four thirsty pilgrims. One of us--the working stiff--might have had a reason to be thirsty. The other three, me included, were dehydrated because of crying our eyes out in the film, the merits of which were many and deep. You know it was serious because Dolly-girl ordered a beer, and then another one. OK, they were half pints, but two half pints make a quart in Dolly-girl's book and that's more beer than she drinks in a month of Mondays, which is how we retired people like to think of how time goes by. You know, we don't mind Monday a bit...

Seeing how retirement is so exhausting, we needed food. JB, the working stiff, had had lunch, but the rest of us, 'cause of the whole time warp issue with DG and the hour at which some of us arise, had skipped a meal. I've logged that in my diary for Dr. Rachel S. Graves, MD who will say, "You know, Jack, you could never eat lunch again and you would have still have had too many lunches" except that she would have said it in a nice professional way. But lunch became dinner and dinner became, I guess, a snack as I had second something when I got home but doesn't writing this count for some sort of exercise? I didn't dictate it to Thelma!
What I'm supposed to be telling you is that Just Mercy is a film to see and The Moon and Six Pence is a good place to go anytime. Even if you aren't retired. Although being retired makes it better. Hell, it makes everything better. Well, maybe it doesn't make sending a working stiff off to work better. But MAYbe better times are ahead...