60 Glorious Years

Her Majesty, Elizabeth II, by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of Her other Realms and Territories Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith, tomorrow celebrates 60 glorious years married to HRH The Prince Philip. In almost all of their pictures we see her gazing lovingly at him and he looking faintly amused at her. It may not have been a marriage made in heaven (her father was not amused), but it is a relationship that works. I have no idea what keeps people together, my own parents included, after the first blush of romance fades. But I am supposing that it has something to do with a sense of humor, a willingness to compromise, and a deep-seated respect for the other person. I like them, individually and as a couple. Frankly, she and he, alone and together, are one of the comforting constants in an increasingly unsure world. I've never been convinced that he married for love, although I am just as sure she did. But it worked, and they seem just as happy today as they were 60 years ago.

Together they have weathered changes in government, shifting public alliance, the creeping rise of Republication sentiment and Diana, Princess of Wales. I have no idea if the monarchy continues after Elizabeth dies, but she has made a very good queen in a world that claims it can do without pomp and ceremony. She is, first and foremost, THE Queen, and sometimes her family has suffered for that. It must be difficult for Philip, or for any man, to accept a role that always places him two paces behind his wife, although they claim that behind closed doors, he makes the decisions. And eventually his children did carry his name.

In any case, they are an example of a working couple and the importance of having someone who knows everything and loves you anyway. When Prince Albert died, Queen Victoria was said to have exclaimed, "Now there is no one who can call me Victoria." Think about that, a world in which no one, not even your best friend, can use your first name. When I was a tiny tot, I remember vividly watching the Queen's coronation on television (albeit, a few hours after the fact), and being convinced that I was her long lost daughter stolen by gypsies and forced to live a miserable working class existence on another continent. I think I actually believed that for several days, maybe a week. Anyway, this was before I realized that being Royal ain't no bed of roses. I cannot imagine Elizabeth without Philip or he without her. I cannot imagine a world without them. It makes me happy to think that she found a soul mate, someone who supported her in an increasingly questionable endeavor. They are for real, they were not created by the tabloid press, and they continue. They found a way to make it work, in public and in private, against the odds. Good for them--and let that be a lesson to the rest of us.

The $1.29 potato and $4 gas

I'm sure you've seen them, hermetically sealed Russet potatoes that come out of the microwave almost as good as the baking potatoes done in the oven. They are not shriveled or puckered. They are a taste sensation, and travel well. I took them to work, when I had a job, and had a tasty microwave potato, sometimes topped with chili. Until this week, you could buy one of these puppies for 79 cents. OK, so that's the price of a pound of baking potatoes, but I was employed and had the extra 79 cents. Apparently, the wrapped potato is a popular item because today, I discovered that these potatoes are now $1.29 each, almost twice as much a pound of Russet potatoes. And if you want a similarly wrapped sweet potato, it will set you back $2.29 each. Even if I was still employed, I wouldn't spend $1.29 on a single potato, wrapped or not. Now I have tried to duplicate the same effect by enrobing a potato in plastic wrap before microwaving. But the result was not as good. If you have one of those seal-a-meal devices that were so popular a few years ago, you may want to try sealing your potato before microwaving. Or you can do what I now do, bake them the old fashion way: in the oven.

I was thinking about complaining, but realize it's useless. I promise you the high cost of gas will be cited as the reason why in one week, the price of a convenience item jumped from 70 cents to $1.29.

Like banging my head on a wall

I wish one of two things would happen: Either Mel Gibson stops making movies or I stop watching them. The only saving grace is that I don't pay at the box office, I pay for the cable, and then I see his movie and hate myself in the morning (usually it doesn't take that long).

This time it was Apocalypto, which has to be one of the dumbest running, jumping, falling down movies ever made. On this side, we have the good Mayans, who make babies and jokes and in the other corner, the bad guys who kidnap people and sell them into slavery. Our hero, Jaguar Paw escapes the slave market and is pursued back to his own forest for the next 40 minutes by the bad guys. Naturally, he prevails, I mean, he IS, the good guy. Early in the movie, Jaguar Paw lowers his heavily pregnant wife and toddler son to a hole or a dry well, or some other inconvenient location. Once their life line is cut, and it is, they are helpless to escape. See, this is a very deep hole, which, of course, immediately fills when it begins to rain. Mrs. Jaguar Paw could have treaded water until she floated to the top, or used outcroppings to stand around and wait to float to the top, but she chooses to nearly drown, and then, balancing on a rock, with her son on her shoulders, she gives birth--I kid you not--and all three survive when pop shows up just in time to haul them out.

Jaguar Paw has kill three of his five pursuers and races out of the forest to the sea he is saved by the timely arrival of the Spanish. The bad guys have pursued him all day and all night without stopping but they are so dumb struck by the big ships that they all forget about Jaguar Paw. And that's how the movie ends, well, Jaguar Paw saves his family and they go deeper into the forest for "a new life."

Oh, yeah and the whole thing is done in Mayan. This film is neither interesting or educational. But who is the lunatic in this asylum: he who makes the crap or she who watches it?

I'm tired of Heather Mills

I've never been much of a Paul McCartney fan and so I have no vested interest in his ongoing break-up with Heather Mills--other than I wish they would get on with it already.

Mills simply does not know when to shut up. Apparently, their's was an unhappy union from the start. But, considering Heather had more to gain by becoming Lady McCartney, one can almost understand why she put up with him for four long years. I guess he needed viagra, as if he is the only man of his age to rely on pharmaceuticals for a stellar performance. Another of his great sins is that he admitted that he was partially to blame for the end of their marriage. Well, duh, isn't that always the way? Too bad Heather can't admit that maybe she had something to do with the end as well. However, Heather seems to be a spiteful bitch who wants to come out of this as a cross between Mother Theresa and Princess Diana. Not even her lawyers want to deal with her anymore--and lawyers will represent anyone as long as the legal bills are paid. Anyway, according to the British tabs, Lady McCartney has tapes of conversations with her then husband and at least one of her step-daughters. I guess wondering why she would tape them in the first place is useless. She keeps threatening to use these tapes in court, where I am sure they will have less of an inpact since she, or someone close to her, reveals the contents to the tabs. Heather, who made a name for herself by marrying Paul in the first place, wants to be known fort her charitable work--which apparently she cannot pursue until the financial settlement meets her needs. And that, apparently, is really what this is about. Heather wants money and lots of it, Paul would prefer to keep his money to himself. Meanwhile, Heather continues her assault on Paul's character, somehow convinced that the public who has lionized him for 40 years will suddenly change its mind. Yeah, when pigs fly.