Wednesday was unusually mild. I walked to Sobey's to get another vanilla-flavored Slice Cream (wince!). The last one I put into the freezer with the wrong side up, and the freezer wasn't cold enough so it melted somewhat into a mess.
Donald couldn't make it for Christmas dinner yesterday. (Big workload at The Globe and Mail!) But we'll save the plum pudding for when he comes. The turkey was a bit undercooked--Father thinks they didn't drain the blood sufficiently--so we put some of it into the microwave.
Today I saw Frederick Wiseman's three-hour documentary National Gallery at its first screening at the Bloor. (I told them, "If you screen any Wiseman films, I'm already there!") Despite having visited that London museum a lot, I was still amazed.
I'm especially impressed by the restorers. (In one scene you can see a partly restored painting, and the before-after difference is visible.) Their job is a holy mission, the present preserving the past for the future in a never-ending Manichean struggle with time. Even bad restorers deserve credit for trying!
I've finally quit the Facebook games Megapolis and Tribez. They just weren't worth the time to me any more.
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