Touch of Grey will, well, touch upon the rainbow that is life. Good music, good times, and good friends combine to make all the splendid colors. Touch of Grey will celebrate this beautiful rainbow.

Saturday, February 26, 2011

The Best Show on Television

This is an update and combination of two blogs from the last year or so. In retrospect, and knowing what I know now about FRINGE, I can honestly say that it has more than surpassed the X-FILES. This is the most amazing ensemble cast, writing, and acting ever assembled on the small screen. The best show on television? YES. The best show ever? Quite possible. Last week's episode is the best I have seen in the four years of watching this show, and believe me, this rabid fan has seen every episode multiple times. You could say I'm fairly obsessed with it; in fact, the morning after last week's show, I awoke with it in my head at 4 a.m., replaying every scene as well as I could remember it. If you haven't watched this show, it's not too late. It is on the "bubble" for a fifth season, and its fans so deserve more time with these people who we have welcomed into our homes and become most fond of over the past 4 years. Take my word for it, you will not see anything better on television now.


Fringe has captivated me since the first episode. But this show has gotten progressively better with each subsequent episode. Last night's showing knocked it out of the park.

I dearly love and respect this show with its excellent actors, superb writing, and a mythology that rivals, even bests at times, that of the X-Files.

Just one question: WHY HASN'T JOHN NOBLE GOTTEN AN EMMY YET????? This man is hands-down THE best actor on TV right now.

If you aren't watching, you are missing an incredible tour-de-force. One word of warning: If you haven't watched before, and you start now, you will be hopelessly lost. But I encourage you to watch nonetheless. You will be able to come up to speed eventually, and I promise you won't regret the time spent. John Noble is worth EVERY minute. He is heartbreakingly awesome, and without him, there would be no show.

Give it a try, won't you? One more warning: I have a feeling when it ends, as all shows must eventually, it won't be on a happy note. But isn't that what life is really like? Isn't the universe(s) of a fickle nature? Given the thread of the story, it MUST end not as we would wish, but as it has to. But, of course, people of this universe and that are human, and have one thing in common: hope.

So, I HOPE you'll watch.

Give this man an Emmy already!

John Noble has put on the performance of a lifetime for two weeks running now on Fox's "Fringe", not to mention three seasons' worth of fine acting. What does it take?

The interaction between Noble and his television son, Joshua Jackson, is the most complex, touching, powerful thing I have seen on TV. As good as Jackson is, he is still surely learning master class acting from Noble. And well he should.

C'mon, television academy, or whoever you are - fork it over! He has more than earned it!

Thursday, February 24, 2011

No Reason.....

Other than I simply love this song.

And hearing it on the way home today made my day instantly 100% better.

Hope it does the same for you.

Thursday, February 17, 2011


Lovely little purple flowers, scattered all about our yard.

This was the sight that greeted me yesterday morning. Unexpected, and seemingly born overnight, these tiny blooms surprised me and my family. They are a welcome sight, as they will surely herald the kaleidoscope of beauty to come as South Texas digs herself out from winter and rushes headlong into spring.

I once knew someone who loved to go on road trips just to listen to music and see the flowers. He called the color explosion in spring, "Tie-dye on the Highway", after the Robert Plant song. When the wildflowers bloom each year, it brings to mind that person and that wonderful tune, and I love nothing more than hearing it while taking a nice, long, road trip.

Yesterday, driving home, I heard a lovely song that is played much too infrequently these days. I always thought of it as an appropriate "road tune" that is an excellent accompaniment to traveling "just to travel". It always makes me feel so peaceful and centered. So as you head out within the next few weeks to view the wildflowers that are sure to pop up, keep this song in mind. While you may not be searching for anything, don't be surprised if you find something after all.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Football, Paper Punches, Metal Shavings, and Love

Because today is Superbowl Sunday, so many memories pop up for me.

I recall watching so many football games on our big console TV when I was a child. Even if we weren't watching, the sound of football would fill the house. In the fall of 1979, my dad wrenched his ankle playing, yes, football, badly enough to where he had to hobble around in a cast for a few weeks. Because he couldn't do much else, mother and I put him to work helping paint little ceramic banks that we sold. You see, it was 1979, the year the Oilers were going to "kick that door in" and win the Superbowl. It sure looked like they would for a while, anyway. Mother's ceramic business was taking off nicely, and in particular demand were football player figurines that we carved a slot in the top of and a hole at the bottom. We painted them in Oilers colors (it took a while to find the perfect Columbia Blue), and plugged the hole with a rubber stopper upon completion, thereby making them the perfect bank. Let me tell you, they were selling like hotcakes. It was all mother and I could do just to keep up. So what a perfect opportunity to put dad to work! He was a good painter as well, and the three of us kept busy churning out mini-Oilers. It was a wonderful time, the optimism and family time spent together blending into fun days and happy evenings.

Thinking about that old house in Houston, I also recall nearly every day sweeping the wood floors, and all the little dots of paper laying around. Dad was a machinist by trade, but also learned to program computers at work, the computers that directed the oil tool machines. It was a developing technology, and these computers bore little resemblance to the ones we know now. These took up entire rooms, were programmed by binary systems, Fortran and Cobol. They were powered by vacuum tubes and required somebody who "spoke their language" to program them correctly. Hence, the long paper sheets used to punch out code. So many of those tiny punches made from paper found their way into dad's shirt pocket, his shoes, his hair even. And he would carry them home with him every evening. There they would dust the floor like tiny snowflakes, and were so tiny and light the smallest draft would blow them around. I would bet that even after we vacated that house, there were still tiny bits of paper floating around.

And then there were the metal shavings. When dad would operate the drill presses and other large machinery that cranked out drill bits for the field, there would be many metal shavings thrown off the machine that landed on the shop floor. Of course, he and the other men that worked in the shop would inevitably get these tiny shavings embedded in their steel-toed shoes. About once a week, dad would take his shoes and dig out the metal shavings with his pocket knife. Mom and I would sweep them up and throw them in the trash. You really did not want to step on these sharp little things with your bare feet! I can so clearly see dad sitting there, digging in his shoe soles with his pocket knife.

And painting those Oilers banks.

And lugging home those wonderful little paper punches.

And now he is home, with me, getting ready to watch Superbowl XLV. There are no Oilers banks to paint, no metal shavings or paper dots for me to sweep up. But the love and the admiration remains. I still think he is the smartest man I have ever known, and I am the luckiest daughter in the world.