Watching The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane. It’s the brilliant and beautiful Jodie Foster circa 1976. Thanks to Netflix I’ve been catching up old and not so old favorites. In the past few weeks I’ve watched The New Leaf, Clue, Arsenic and Old Lace, Of Human Bondage, Dracula, and Equus. There’s loads of documentaries and TV series available too.

Last week I watched The Woodmans. The life and work of Francesca Woodman, photographer and artist, is presented by her artist parents and brother, as well as a few close friends. Francesca took her own life in 1981. She was 22 years old. Her body of work is largely black & white self image photos. Most are nude or semi-nude, and art of the highest order. Francesca was fortunate to have parents who allowed her unlimited self-expression at a young age.

From the corner of my eye I can Jodie serving Martin Sheen a cup of tea. Sheen plays a child molester in this film. The movie has short scenes of sex and violence that are powerful, but not graphic.

My afternoon is lunch and shopping with a friend. Michaels, a chain of crafty type stores, is on our list. Wandering the aisles there is a treat. Wish I had my daughter’s knack for crafts. Grandma always said it was a lack of patience on my part not skill.

Years back I did try my hand, with some success, at rug hooking and cross stitch. The kits are impossible to find since Woolworths closed. It’s been 20 years since they shuttered their New York doors, and no other chain has truly filled the gap. You could everything from elastic to Halloween costumes. They also sold goldfish and parakeets; visiting that section and the soda fountain was a treat as a child and adult.

My I am rambling aren’t I?

Okay, let me get myself off the sofa and dressed.

Til later lovelies.