Around noon I took a ride up to BJ's to buy gas and sundry supplies. I also picked up a DVD of Twelve O'Clock High for $4.99, for my holiday movie watching (although it's also probably on AMC this weekend, too). I took the back roads home, trying to avoid the beach traffic. Ya know, you don't expect to find a traffic jam on a dirt road, but I did. Memorial Day festivities of some sort that required three fire engines to turn around on a road way too narrow for them. (There was no fire, it was for some sort of display.) Le sigh.
I continued to putter. The Dodgers have been in Washington, which means the games are on east coast time, so I turned on the game. Three innings in, Seo had given up seven runs (to the frelling Nats?!?), so I figured I'd have more fun mowing the lawn. Did that, terrorizing a toad in the process. (All I wanted to do was move it, because it was either that, or chop him up under the lawnmower, and the damn thing just didn't seem to grasp the concept. At least there was a better outcome this time than in the kamakaze baby bunnies incident, about which the less said the better.) Watched Twelve O'Clock High. I don't buy General Savage's breakdown at all, but Dean Jagger totally deserved his Oscar. Then there was steak and home-made focaccia on the grill for dinner. Now I'm watching Steve McQueen bounce a baseball off a concrete wall.