I'm lamenting the lack of sharks on my television. Though, to be fair, I think everyone's life could only be improved by a John Williams score accompanying them.
Yes, in addition to copious amounts of barbecued meat, courtesy of the husband, and me making the occasional side dish (the largest batch of artichoke spinach dip in the history of my household), one of the big things in my house is to watch Jaws. It's my mom's favorite movie, and this tradition stretches all the way back to my childhood. We're talking early HBO and VCRs, folks. In case you wondered. I'm that old.
I know, an early Spielberg movie from before I was born (barely) seems like an odd choice for a holiday weekend, but it just isn't summer until the sleepy town of Amity has to close the beaches because of Bruce. I watch it on Memorial Day, July 4th, and Labor Day (and really any other time I come across it on tv, but I digress) and somehow, all I've managed to do is to work on book 3 (cover reveal coming soon! watch this space!), make food, and watch my husband play Minecraft.
I think I need to stage a coup and retake the television for holiday fare and Roy Scheider goodness. After my dinner settles, though. It's the right thing to do.