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Sorry, but you couldn’t expect me to post here while I was so terribly involved in  Downton Abbey  – not just watching, but living (!) every episode of both seasons . . . and then doing again, because it just . . . quit. What’s with that? No more Lady Mary, Matthew, O’Brien, Carson, Daisy or Granny until September – and we’re supposed to do WHAT in the meantime?

I admit to greed, sloth and gluttony over this show, but the good times certainly hit a brick wall when it was over. Of course, I began searching for other diversionary shows to build a bridge to September. But before telling of the delights of these gap-fillers, I should remind you that MRH and I are now unplugged from cable, without a dish on our roof and are streaming all TV and movies through the tiny purple box, Roku. We love it, and we really aren’t that easy!

When overcome by the urge to veg out, we let the mood select the perfect show from the hundreds I’ve queued up on Hulu, Netflix and Amazon. We can choose to watch the latest (or the very first) episode of The Good Wife at 7:22 on Saturday night, when there’s nothing but crap on regular TV, and you know it’s true. We could get into stuff we’ve never seen, beginning with the pilot show and watching each episode back-to-back, with no commercials (Netflix or Amazon) or very few (Hulu). Just so you know . . . we’re probably depraved, but never deprived.

On with the big reveal: The ABC series, Life, was an intriguing crime drama that ended real-time in 2009. We’d never heard of it, but it grabbed us right away and proved delicious with popcorn. Diversity is necessary so as to not to get smacked into the brick wall again. So the next show making the cut (neither sissy nor stupidly macho) is Rescue Me, borderline on the stupid/macho thing, but saved by its quirkiness, Dennis Leary, dimples and calendar-hard bodies. This FX network series is now in its final season, so we still have many strange episodes to look forward to. Takeaway wisdom is, NYC firemen live dangerously and get laid (a lot), but regular counseling might serve them better than nooky if they hope to live to be as old as us.

I recently read an article titled Stop Making Victims, in which the author declares, “It’s high time for police to tell people that sometimes you have to fight for your life, even if it gets you killed.”

Evidently, some law enforcement trainers instruct would-be victims that resistance should end the minute the bad guy has a lethal weapon.  But this author nixes that mindset, stating . . . “If somebody tries to kill you, you try to kill ‘em right back.” He illustrates the need to fight back with the facts of the Columbine tragedy — athletic young men and women hiding under tables in the library as their homicidal classmates gunned them down – and even the woman in her 70s who days ago was burned to death in an elevator by a thug in New York City.

Testing my own feelings on this subject, I recalled one amazing moment in my life, when running from and throwing furniture in the path of my enraged older brother many (many!) years ago, I found myself in a place where pain was insignificant, and I would have done absolutely anything to protect myself. (Neither my brother nor I now remember what triggered his rage – thank goodness.)

This article caused me to think about that strange, long-ago moment . . . memory of which could also be blamed on the too many Lisa Gardner novels I’ve read lately. I’m just saying, I was one time at that fighting place, and I’m pretty sure that if needed, I could go there again.

This article declares, “Americans need to regain their fighting spirit!”  What are your thoughts?

There’s still plenty of time for road trips before winter sets in. So, if you’re making plans along those lines, consider the following to be a pop quiz and your homework. Nobody said it would be easy, but of course it is – and you must admit it’s a heck of a lot more pleasant than algebra.

National Lampoon’s Vacation is an unbelievable 28 years old, and still the funniest road trip movie ever made – but that could be my opinion only.  So, what’s your favorite?

If you remember Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz in The Long, Long Trailer – face it – you are AARP material. This hilarious movie came out in gorgeous Technicolor . . . in 1954 . . .  and every minute is classic Lucy!

More on the modern side, The Bucket List is a heartwarming salute to life that proves that the best time of all is right now. This movie suggests that you (1) create a list of things to do before you kick the bucket, (2) discover the joy in life before it’s too late, and then (3) go out in style!

Planes, Trains and Automobiles features two guys (Steve Martin and John Candy) with a knack for making the worst of every bad situation while on an absolutely wonderful cross-country, wild goose chase.

Meet the Hoovers, a hilariously dysfunctional Albuquerque clan, who pile into a VW van for a weekend trek to L.A. to get moppet daughter Olive into the Little Miss Sunshine beauty pageant.

Easy Rider, hippie motorcyclists Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper embrace freedom as they cross the Southwest and a crazy quilt of characters (such as Jack Nicholson). Trouble is – society has a serious problem with freedom – maybe even more than it did back in 1969.

Salt of the earth and funny, Shirley Valentine is a bored English housewife who manages to have a doozy of a midlife crisis. Her husband is clueless and her life narrow, but it’s okay because Shirley knows how to dream big to free her soul – and yours!

Two best friends, Thelma & Louise (Susan Sarandon and Geena Davis) set out on a liberating road trip adventure, but along the way they become fugitives involved in an interstate police chase. This 1991 box-office hit pinched a nerve and made the characters instant icons all over the world.

Remember these great old road trip movies, if you can. (Borrow, buy or rent them – especially if you flunked “Memory.”) And then tell me about your personal favorites in the comments box. See? Easy-peasy!

I recently read a School of Psychology report that claimed older people are less tactful than younger ones – and just plain rude. This is evidenced by our insistence on publicly discussing private matters (your hemorrhoids, for instance) without a clue that others might find the subject discomforting.

The study went on to say that younger people often ask each other personal questions too, but they snoop more privately. Therefore, study results proclaim, because of inevitable and natural changes in brain function related to aging, the ability of senior citizens to be socially appropriate  . . . is toast.

This is not a bad thing. Reports such as these pave the way for truth and honesty. Not that we need encouragement, but now that the world has accepted the natural-brain-changes theory, older people are freer to question – “Don’t you think that tattoo looks more like a surgical scar than a butterfly since your cleavage started wrinkling up?”

Truthfully, it’s not just brain changes. People are curious about many things, and time begins to run out on getting all the answers. Pussyfooting is not for seniors. Go ahead and shoot yourself now, because you too will begin asking embarrassing questions as you grow older. Try not to worry about it though, because if you’re lucky you’ll one day be in our comfortable shoes. Prepare now to begin receiving all the answers to life’s most important questions. And if you forget the answers – tell a joke, shuffle up the cards and eat a cookie instead. Life is good.

Did you ever happen upon a massive roadblock lying across the path you were traveling, and there didn’t appear to be any way around it? Maybe you tried to slip to the left, but a high-voltage fence stopped your progress. If you ventured to the right – yikes! – a sheer drop-off plunged loose gravel into a jagged abyss.

So you pulled a shovel from your backpack, put your head down and began to dig into the hard packed earth. Dig. Dig. Dig. Shoveling beneath the roadblock soon became your entire focus. You encountered thick roots, rocks and even boulders, but you pushed harder, burrowed deeper. The black tunnel beneath the roadblock grew by miles, until you were sure you heard muffled voices speaking Mandarin. You jerked up in amazement and smacked your head so hard that it caused you to suddenly realize that you hadn’t attempted the MOST obvious solution of climbing OVER the roadblock. So, you flung the shovel down and quickly retraced your steps.

When you finally pulled your filthy self out of the dark hole, the massive roadblock loomed just as you’d left it, absolutely unavoidable. You grabbed hold of an outcropping and found an indention for your right foot. Just as you began to put your weight on the obstacle, the massive thing wobbled. You hopped down and gave it a serious push. As if it were carved from Styrofoam, the entire roadblock slid to the right and pitched over the edge of the jagged abyss. You slowly turned to gape at your merry little path, winding forward through the wildflowers and fragrant forests.  You felt like banging yourself on the head again for wasting so much time and effort in the dark gaping hole behind you. Stupid roadblock! But the gentle sunlight and singing birds beckoned you onward. Never before had your pathway appeared as sweet or as clear as it was on this day.

Okay, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. It’s also why I wrote that crappy post yesterday. It was worth it, I’m telling you.  Hallelujah – I’m FREE!!

I’ve always assumed that most people are honorable, and anyhow, it’s difficult to get away with cheating. But I’ve been wrong before. 

There is a worm who owns an Internet company, who owes me big bucks (big to me, at least) for work I did in good faith. I admit it – I was stupid. At first he paid, never on time, but close. Then, the gaps between payments grew, until I awoke one morning and realized there were twice as many invoices as checks. I sent the worm several messages, determined not to whine, and eventually received just a portion and a promise of what was owed me.

Today I initiated an email chat with Gnat – a warped, but experienced writer who’d set off in the same leaky canoe as I, with the very same worm at the helm – to get another take on the sorry situation.

Me:  Any luck in squeezing the turnip?

Gnat:  I am somewhat taken aback, but certainly not offended, by your fascination with my turnip. Actually, I have long ago given up turnip squeezing and other foreplay while awaiting breakthroughs in enhancement medical research. On another subject, after long last, long, long last, I received a check last week for roughly 10 per cent of what is owed me. The bad news: this guy is pretty well broke and there is no reasonable way we can squeeze his turnip. The good news: he knows we are powerless yet still made a payment. That would indicate his heart, if not his pocketbook, is in the right place. If you want to talk face to face, you are going to have to stop being such a snob about Walmart. I will be the guy in the produce department fingering the turnips.

Me:  I once saw you in the produce department, Gnat, and I don’t believe it was a turnip you were fingering . . . but a rutabaga. Rutabagas are generally larger and juicier than turnips, although they have skins like alligators and require constant heat and pressure to produce any juice. Just yesterday I again addressed our turnip worm – hopeful to glean a dribble here, a dribble there – until I have enough liquid to complete my recipe.

(You really think he’s broke?)

Gnat:  Yeah, I believe he is broke.

You got the wrong guy. I have never massaged a rutabaga, although your description invites the possibility with words that could even provoke a medical breakthrough. In truth, I was the fellow staring wistfully at the cucumbers.

Me:  Not to be a jicama, but is that a gut feeling or gas – do you have reason to believe this is true?

Gnat:  I assume you are speaking of financial responsibility. My resource is observation of the evidence, conversations with Aggie (another victim) over the months, and, finally, her observation that he is indeed broke.

Me:  You are far cleverer than I, and sneakier, too – both traits I admire greatly.  If Aggie said he is broke, then I guess he is. However, he did commission me do a job last month, and he paid the invoice before it was due, probably because I told him that he’d have to if he wanted me to do anything further. So far, he has requested nothing else, though. I was wondering if knowing this might change your mind? (Sorry about the cukes.)

Gnat:   Oh, well, it is just life in the produce aisle. Lettuce just understand that life is not always a bowl of cherries.

Me:  True. So you recommend we all continue to make salad elsewhere, whether or not he’ll lettuce, turnip and pea?

Gnat:  Sometimes in my frustration I must say, “Oh, just fork it!” 

Me:  You’re done, then?

Gnat:  Not really. I still find a luscious peach irresistibly mouthwatering.

Me:  You’re a bit of a fruit fly, but I always enjoy talking to you. Thanks for your feedback, Gnat!

And so, Dear Reader, please tell me in a comment what would YOU would do – continue to bug the worm until he produces the lettuce . . . or stick a fork in him, as my friend Gnat has done? Either way, I’m back to the compost heap for now . . . and I thank you for your kind consideration of my plight.