Zero Gravity Chair

My old tube-framed, woven-plastic folding porch lawn chair finally gave out and I gracefully let it go, taking it to the recycling place, and then, because I spend so much time lounging on the screened porch, sought a new one and saw for sale absolutely nothing like those familiar tube-framed, woven-plastic patio chairs, as hard as I looked. So how to replace the chair I used to work in, doze in, carry to the meadow and sun myself in? That kind simply isn't sold any longer.

Instead, I saw folding "director's" chairs (don't need one) and "zero-gravity" lounge chairs, and there being nothing else, I chose the highest-starred one on Amazon, chose between burgundy and black, and in two days a box half as high as I and three times as wide appears on my porch and has to be dragged into the carpeted living room, where the item won't be scratched in case I want to return it, I'm that skeptical. With the box sliced open, I dump out and unfold a well-wrapped chair ALREADY ASSEMBLED, ready to sit in, a situation so knock-me-over-with-a-feather that in my confusion I actually looked at the instruction sheet, and from it learned how to lock the chair into position with handy little tabs beneath the armrests, and how to attach the utility tray (holding drinks, phones, and right now the tablet I took this photo with). The attached sun-shade is adjustable and folds away, over the chair back. Looks like they came on the market in 2015 and everyone was wise to them but me.

I was curious: What is so zero-gravity about it? Then I got in the chair, stretched it out, and locked it into position with the little pull tabs, and lounged. What a difference from the former chair that like those dreadful wooden "Adirondack"chairs had you seated with knees above butt level, pressuring the lower spine. I've about decided to keep this rather handsome chair as my living-room lounge chair and buy another for the porch. The white dot on the chair back is a reflection from the sun.

I Heart Judge Judy

According to Judge Judy, she has 10 million viewers every weekday and hers is the only show I'll take an hour to watch (back-to-back episodes between 4 and 5 p.m.) and the only show I record so I never miss it, and the only reason I pay $35 a month for TV because I regularly watch nothing else now that Jay Leno's off the air.

I know how much she's hated, yet Her Honor fascinates me: a rude, clever, demanding woman skewering the scum of humanity: defaulters on loans, grabbers of steering wheels, owners of unleashed dogs, teenage drunks, no-show DJs, urban BB shooters, non-paying roommates, Craigslist creeps--smartasses of all ages. She's part of what makes America great.

Yet Her Honor is not the whole show. I heart how much the real people look exactly like what they are! The sleaze has the posture, clothing, haircut, makeup, look, voice, facial expression of a sleaze. The skank, the rich suburban psycho, the ne'er-do-well father of 6 children by 4 women, the lazy laborer, or the swole-belly penny-ante landlord--all seem to look exactly like what they are. I'm especially enthralled when the plaintiffs and defendants are from Missouri. Okay, I've admitted it. I've watched for years. Years.