Big Screen: The BFG

Seeing "The BFG," Steven Spielberg's Big Friendly Giant, at 6:45 p.m. was the perfect ending to a hot, sticky summer day. I heard on the radio it was close to 90 but felt like 100. Indeed, it did. 

Punch and I sunk gratefully into the reclining seats, slipped on our 3D glasses and pressed a red button to order supper and ice-cold drinks.

With no AC in car, a cooler for milk and other perishables at home, and a very hot body temp to begin with, I felt like I was in a sauna all day. When Punch and I drove into NYC at 4 to drop Fig's medicine to her [she forgot it, and is taking 6:40 a.m. bus back to Maine tomorrow*], we drove into a heavy thunderstorm approaching the Lincoln Tunnel. No fan for cold air also means no fan for defogging, so we had to keep some windows open and the car got soaked. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to see.

The movie was magical and sweet, with a touching message about how dreams come to us when we sleep, and a lovable giant with his own funny language. This be my work is one good example. His funny names for people and things reminds me of Dad's nicknames for us.

I also walked the dog, weeded a little and made it to Tonia's great 11:15 a.m. gentle yoga class.

Wishing you A.C. in your bedroom. I do have that. Punch and Sug flopping to sleep with me; H. w college friends in Wisconsin.

Good night.

*in retrospect, I probably should have overnighted it to Fig.