Great minds, dear boy…

It’s like how I always confuse Joan Blondell and Ann Sothern, only without the charm.

My husband has been trying to get one since early October. He’s now scheduled for mid-December, but they’ve let him know they may reschedule (and FWIW, we have excellent insurance).

I needed one in Cairo in September; our doctor sent me across the hall and it was done in an hour.

And cost $50.

She had presence; I’m guessing that, handled correctly, she could have been effective—but my memory from interviews is that her voice wasn’t strong, and there’s only so much even the most talented amateur can do in terms of sustaining a performance over a run.

There’s not enough gravy in the world to offset the sere aridity of those godforsaken dishes… even the cranberry dressing looks dehydrated.

I think I’d have gone with “Grintch,” if only to avoid sounding like one of those little involuntary noises one makes standing up after the age of about 52.

Betcha ten to one she did excellent ham croquettes.

We’re so lucky that there are videos; her records are glorious, but seeing her is something quite wonderful.

It was a brunch matinee at a joint in Philadelphia called Café Society.

My grandmother, in a rare fit of bossiness, demanded that my parents take her and me. Probably the last live music she heard, and my first exposure to cabaret.

I didn’t know what it was, but I knew that it was great.

As soon as I saw the trays, I knew we were in for a good meal.

Part of a larger trip, but almost worth going on its own.

As I was being discharged from the hospital after open-heart surgery (with complications), my sister, herself a doctor, said “You weren’t half the wuss I thought you’d be,” and I felt like I’d been knighted.

We used to be a country, a proper country…

Saw it at the community preview last Saturday—it looks splendid. It’s small but extremely elegant, and the restoration really makes it shine.

Two, yes, but they function as a unit.

The chicken curry! It was always either that or the Tetrazzini…

After, I hope, a nice round of eggs à la Russe!

I guess they figured that nothing much generally happened during the first act.

I believe that in the ‘30s, Broadway plays generally began at 8:45, and that it was indeed not uncommon for the toffs to arrive whenever they liked, especially for a play that had been running a while. And straight plays would often (mostly?) have had two intermissions.