aka "Here Comes Peter Cotton Claus!"
We're freezing here in NJ. We had snow flurries earlier today. My only consolation for this "last blast" of winter is that, as bad as it is here in Jersey, it's even worse in Boston.
Actually, I'm having a hard time convincing myself that it's April 8th. The trees are still mostly barren, the skies gray and the grass is, well, still dead.
Nothing's peeking up out of the ground. No tulips, no nothing.
It could leave a boy feeling blue and blah on an Easter Sunday. I toyed with the idea of going to the movies to see something to cheer me up but the only choices are a little, well, disappointing to say the least.
It seemed to boil down to either "Blades of Glory", "300" or "Grind House."
See what I mean?
So, I dragged my butt into the living room and started channel surfing. Until, voila!
AMC is having a Shirley Temple Film Festival.
Bright Eyes. Curly Top. The Little Colonel. Wee Willie Winkie, Heidi, Little Miss Broadway and Susannah of the Mounties!
My Easter is saved. What can be more appealing, more innocent, more purely entertaining than an afternoon spent watching the films of that bundle of joy, America's Sweetheart and the kid who single-handledly saved Twentieth Century Fox, Shirley Temple?
That kid's innocent face and adorable talents have certainly raised my spirits on this otherwise deplorable Spring afternoon!
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