A Woman of Many Parts

Wait, there was a 008?

That just goes to prove why it's about time I'm getting around to seeing the James Bond series, courtesy of Movieland's Movies and Mimosas.

Two weeks ago it was Dr. No and today, after walking to the theater on an exquisite morning, it was "Goldfinger."

Or, as Shirley Bassey sings it, "Goldfingahhhh."

The movie got my attention (and no doubt that of women for the past 50 years) in the opening scene where James is wearing a bathing suit and getting a massage.

When he stands up wearing those fitted '60s-style swim trunks, that's an impressive hunk of man.

I was especially tickled when he then put on a romper, zipping it up to his hairy chest and belting it.

When's the last time you saw a guy in a romper?

Of course, he was still full of 007 technical information, like, "My dear girl, there are some things that just aren't done, like drinking Dom Perignon '53 above the temperature of 38 degrees Fahrenheit. That's just as bad as listening to the Beatles without earmuffs!"

His advice still holds on the first, although never on the second.

When the location moved to Goldfinger's stud farm in Kentucky, things got all southern.

There was a huge Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant in the background ("Colonel Sanders' secret recipe") and James refers to "bourbon and branch water."

When all was said and done, I didn't like it quite as much as "Dr. No" because it seemed like James spent less time romancing women.

That said, I was terribly impressed that the actress who played Pussy Galore was 37 at the time, especially since back in 1964, 37 was not the new 27 like now.

Once Bond had saved Fort Knox, parachuted from a failing plane and was rolling around making out with Pussy under a parachute, the credits told us that it was the end of "Goldfinger" but that Bond would be back in "Thunderball."

Which probably means I'll be back at Movieland, hoping for a few less dead bodies and a lot more drinking advice and action on the sheets.

Walking back home beside the endless throng of workers always at Redskin Park, I got in the car to go to Manchester.

Blue Bee Cider (Virginia's only urban cidery) and Anderson's Neck Oyster Company (which I'd had at Dutch & Co.) were doing a tasting all afternoon and having recently tasted (and enjoyed) some Blue Bee Cider, I wanted more.

The tasting room had a lively crowd when I arrived, mostly guys but a few of my people.

There were two cider choices, Charred Ordinary, a more traditional cider, and Aragon 1904, an off-dry cider more reminiscent of champagne.

With a glass of the light and crisp (and not at all cloying) latter, I wandered over to the shucking table where I had a dozen Eagle Flats awaiting me.

"How's your day going so far?" one of the shuckers asked.

I told him I'd just seen "Goldfinger" for the first time at the theater.

"Wow, "Goldfinger" then oysters and cider? That's a really awesome Saturday!" he enthused.

Don't I know it.