This Wonderful Life

left-side-of-the-menu

Sunday night we went to see This Wonderful Life, the Saint Louis Repertory Theater’s Christmas show.  The play is a one man adaptation of Frank Capra’s classic movie, It’s a Wonderful Life.  The play pokes fun at the movie, but in a kind way.  The play remains true to the spirit of the movie and to George Bailey.

A joke that I remember includes the actor’s extemperaneous remark questioning what kind of New York bank examiner would be working on Christmas Eve.  There was a lot of additional ad lib about the recent financial crisis.  I’m sure Steve (Rep’s Art Boss) is relishing his scheduling foresight of this play.  I just hope he was just as savvy with his own 401K.

Most of the plays humor comes from the actor’s over the top, read twenty-first century interpretation, of the movie’s 40’s characters and morals.  Googling reviews of the play, I have found them to be less then complementary.  Anne and I enjoyed the play.  So did the audience.  Maybe it was just the conjunction of this holiday season and our country’s financial problems.  After all, banking crisis’s resonates from the movie to today.  I think we need more of George Bailey on Wall Street and less of Mr. Potter.

As a side note, the New York Times this last week ran a somewhat similar, somewhat sardonic piece, as a review of It’s a Wonderful Life.

At Big Sky, I skipped my usual pot roast and Anne and I shared a flight of their small plates.  We had salad, surf and turf or crab cakes and beef kabobs, all for $20.  We had room for desert, blackberry pear crisp with ginger ice cream. Yum Yum!  I must confess though, that I was seriously tempted by their new to me menu item, sliders.  I think I’ll have to go back for lunch. 

This post’s picture shows Anne holding up the dessert menu.  When asked what looked good to her, she said, “the left side of the menu”.  I pointed out that the menu items run down the center of the menu.  She then turned it sideways.  I know she is pointing to her right side, she says it is some sort of teacher thing.

Dave made it home late last night, but not his checked bags.  Dave barely made his connection in Atlanta.  When asked if he had any clothes in his backpack, he said, “No these are the only clean clothes I have.”  Hmmm, two suitcases full of dirty clothes.  Maybe I should contact Homeland Security?  Hopefully they will show up today.

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