Alright?

I will now talk more about Gavin and Stacey. One of my favorite things about this show is how the characters will randomly burst into song, which is something that happens quite regularly with my own family and friends. There are tons of these moments on the show, more than clips exist online for, but here are a few of my favorite of these moments on the show, none of which are spoilerish in terms of plot: Smithy's big entrance, featuring the magnificent Pam. Uncle Bryn singing James Blunt in the car. (Oh my God, Uncle Bryn. Who is funnier, sweeter, more tragic in a way, and more ridiculous than Uncle Bryn? No one.) Smithy and Rudi rapping. I wish I could find the clip of Nessa and Bryn sitting at the arcade rehearsing "Something Stupid" and the gang singing Jack Johnson at a crucial moment I won't give away, and many more. And finally, in the spirit of the season, Smithy and Gavin doing "Do They Know It's Christmas?"

I really can't stop talking, at least in my head, like the characters on this show. A common Welsh greeting, apparently, is to say, "Alright, Stace?" and then the person responding will say, "Alright, Ness?" (I feel like I sound like Uncle Bryn when explaining something like this.) It is now how I want to greet everyone. Basically, I want to pretend that the entire world of Gavin and Stacey is real and that I live in it. I was able to find season three, so now I'm all done, except for the Christmas special, which is eluding me. I will not give up until I find it, though. (In case this sounds like an insane amount of TV, know that it's only 18 half-hour episodes, which is shorter than one season of an American show.) Basically, this show has made me laugh my face off and also get very moved at times, which is all I ask for in a show. I LOVE IT.

Other misc. things:

Four Months, Three Weeks and Two Days. I've been meaning to watch this for years, ever since A.O. Scott, whose reviews I normally trust, declared it his top film of the year a few years back. I knew nothing going into it. Um ... don't watch this movie by yourself on a cold and rainy night. That's all I have to say. It was harrowing. And horrifying, and bleak, and stark, and really scared the pants off of me in ways I can't really articulate without being spoilery about it. It might be a good movie, artistically speaking, and an important movie, politically speaking, but it's a movie I never want to see again.

The Hunger Games. The Hunger Games! I've been hearing all about The Hunger Games, but somehow it didn't fall into my life until now. On Gavin and Stacey, Gavin's mom, Pam, who is one of my favorite characters on the show and possibly ever in anything, exclaims, "Sh*t a brick!" when something truly major happens. And it was her voice, in her accent, that I heard in my head when finishing the book in bed late last night. "Sh*t a brick!" Like ... something major had happened, and that something major was reading this book and every single thing that happened in it. Major. Majorly exciting, majorly scary, majorly romantic, majorly awesome. I cannot wait to read the sequel. I am sh*tting a brick in anticipation.

And now for a running update ... feel free to skip if such things make your eyes glaze over. They practically make my own eyes glaze over, so I feel you. Yesterday wrapped up week 8 of training with a 72-minute run. I made it 6.62 miles. (10:45, 10:46, 10:50, 10:59, 11:14, 10:53, 10:33). I feel fine about it. After a week of no other running (I know) and a steady intake of cookies, brownies, turtle cheesecake, chocolate covered pecans, peppermint kisses, etc., I wasn't in the greatest condition for running and definitely felt it. But the day was the first truly gorgeous day we've had in weeks ... low 50s without a cloud in the bright, sunny sky ... so I vowed to enjoy the run as much as possible. When I felt tired, I told myself that I was basically running half a half-marathon, and with 10 weeks to go, that feels about right on track. I don't want to start going really far until the end; in addition to being probably physically impossible for me in this shape, it also seems anti-climactic. From here on out, the schedule demands four runs per week, and I'm going to have to be way more on the ball about actually running when I'm supposed to!

It's been a truly lovely weekend so far. A little sunshine goes a long way, it turns out.

What's occurrin'?

I've decided to try to start talking like Ness on my new favorite show, Gavin and Stacey. This means I will say things in a Welsh accent like "fair play," "tidy," "genuine," "well done," "crackin'," and "what's occurrin'?"

I am honestly starting to bore myself with the running entries so I'll try to keep this one short & sweet. Big surprise, I only ran twice last week. Again. I was set for a 65-minute run over the weekend but ran a five-mile race instead. It was in the low 40s and pouring down rain when I got up, but I knew my friends were going and I wasn't about to be the only one who stayed home. Miraculously, the rain slowed to a drizzly mist right as the race started. I ended up running the whole five miles with a friend, which was fun. I knew this route like the back of my hand, so it was nothing too adventurous or exciting, but it was great to have company and to notice on my trusty watch how we were speeding up a little bit pretty much each mile. (10:30, 10:30, 10:18, 10:17, 9:45). I feel good about my pace ... a little over 51 minutes wasn't anything record setting, and we came in very near the end of the pack, but I keep reminding myself that I'm getting faster, for me, and that's what counts. The only truly heinous part was soaking both feet in a very cold puddle about half-way through, but I toughed it out. I've never done a non-tri race without music, but iPods were outright forbidden, so I left it at home. (UNLIKE SOME PEOPLE. I'm just too much of a rule abider, I cannot help it.) It was strange to run without music, but I didn't mind it much since I was with a friend. It started pouring pretty much immediately after we finished, which put a damper on the post-race festivities, but overall, it was a good event. We milled around inside for a little while to visit, and I changed immediately after finishing into some smartwool socks and dry sneakers that I'd brought with me in the attempt to stave off the death cough that plagued me for several weeks after romping in the snow last year with wet feet, and so far, so good! This week, week 8, is the last with three runs ... it's 4 runs per week for the 10 weeks after this, starting with Christmas week, God help me. At least boot camp will be over! I've really enjoyed it, but I am tired, and I want to start sleeping past 5 a.m. more often than not.

It seriously rains every day around here lately. Everything is saturated. We are a moist, moist people.

What else? I finished Born to Run, recommended by Linda, and enjoyed it. I wish more of the book had focused on the Tarahumara because they were the part of the story that mostly interested me. I liked learning about some of the major characters in ultrarunning because they're quite a group, and all of the stuff about feet was interesting. Overall, while it isn't a perfect book, it's a pretty good read, and it definitely made me want to become a better runner. (I also liked this piece about running barefoot in Central Park. The whole barefoot running movement intrigues me, but I keep wondering, what about the skin on the bottom of your feet? Do you basically end up with hooves? No, thank you?)

I ordered calendars made from the beautiful photographs of my friends Jessamyn and romanlily, and they've both arrived. They're lovely, and I can't wait for 2010 so I can use them.

I went to my favorite local cafe three days in a row last week, which might be excessive. But if that many gingerbread au laits and peppermint mochas and pastries and good visits with good friends are wrong, I don't want to be right.

Dog update: The man I yelled at last week and his big dumb black dog were about to cross through my yard when I pulled in my driveway recently when coming home from work, so I just sat there with my car idling across the sidewalk staring at him so he'd see me and hopefully keep walking. He did. Yesterday morning, I happened to be in my room when I heard him telling his dog to "do his thing" in my yard again, so I banged on the window, waved, smiled, and yelled, "GOOD MORNING!" Once again he jumped out of his skin. He looked away and mumbled "Good morning" and hurried along. I mean, what is it going to take? Seriously? He's a little older than I first wagered, so maybe he's truly senile. Who in his right mind would take his dog back to a yard, clearly with no baggies in hand, where he's been spotted numerous times, been given the stank eye from both inside the house and the car, and even been asked rather vehemently to clean up after his dog? Encouraging his dog, "Do your thing"? Again? What is the world coming to? I can't even be mad anymore, it's too ridiculous.

Finally, design genius and overall nice Southern lady AB Chao (some of her work) stopped by yesterday with her cute husband and supercool daughter on their way home from winning a state football championship because they might as well be the Panthers I mean Lions. Basically, she told me how to live. As some of you know, she is good at this. It was a delight to see them all.

Now there is nothing left to do but finish up season 2 of Gavin and Stacey and company, my new best friends, and figure out some way to score the Christmas special and season 3 from across the pond. Luckily I have a mighty fine Irish friend who might be able to assist me in this endeavor. This show is really only about three things: family, friendship, and love. And it manages to be about them in a very hilarious way. And I love it very much. OH! And I started The Hunger Games, which I'm about a million years late in reading. And holy mother of heaven. It is so good! I can't put it down. You were right, everyone in the world.

Running & misc.

Week six of running training consisted of only two runs. (Sigh.) But onward I go. The second run was meant to be a 5K race, but considering that it was dumping freezing precipitation, I opted to stay home. It would have been hardcore and all, but there's something to be said, I think, for staying well. My third (really second) was a sixty-minute run on the first day of decent weather around here in days & days. The sun was out, and it felt like a miracle. I bundled up but had removed my jacket and hat and gloves by the end. My pace was just under 11-minute miles on the average, and I made it 5.47 miles. Not as fast or far as I would have liked, but I honestly had to give myself a talking-to during the run. I kept feeling very bothered that I am not (and might not ever be) as fast as some of my running pals but I just tried to tell myself that I'm not competing with them and I'm only competing against myself to try to get better. Which I have. So I tried to take some pride in that instead of lamenting that I'm not super speedy. All in all, it was an utterly gorgeous day & an utterly gorgeous run. New shoe report: My shins felt surprisingly okay during and after the run, but for the first time, as soon as I slowed down to do my walking cool-down, my knees ached like crazy. Not sure it was the shoes or the three previous days of squatting and lunging like a lunatic at boot camp. They feel okay today, thankfully. I've never had knee problems and don't want to start now! Best Running Song: I Gotta Feeling by the Black Eyed Peas, mostly because it made me think about this.

When I got home, I set about stringing up some Christmas lights, made difficult by the fact there were large piles of dog poop scattered about the front yard. I had a suspected culprit in mind as I've seen the same silver-haired man urging the same big black dog to "do his thing" in my yard not once but twice. The first time, I was too shocked to react. The second time, I heard him through the window, so I flung open the blinds and stared at him, meeting his eye, hoping that would discourage him from coming back. I was just telling my dad last night about this man, which of course thoroughly annoyed him in that protective dad ass-kicking kind of way. This morning, I woke up early but wasn't quite ready to leave the warm fuzzy cuddly cloud of bed, so I lay there finishing The Canning Season (lovely) and I heard him again! I peeked out slyly and saw him in my next-door neighbor's yard and as he made his way across her driveway to mine, standing smack in the middle of my yard in front of my window urging the dog to "do his thing," I snapped my blinds open, knocked loudly on the window, plastered a smile on my face, and shouted without really thinking, "Sir, can you please start cleaning up after your dog? I keep stepping in his poop! Thank you!" He jumped about a foot in the air, gave a little startled and apologetic wave, and dragged his dog away, looking horrified. I really did not want to be rude to an elder, but give me a break! I really wanted to throw my robe on and chase him down the street with my box of poop scooping bags and helpfully inform him that they're only $5 at Walmart, but it was cold and by then he was long gone. I feel strangely guilty for fussing at him, but I really tried to do it nicely, and those piles of poop are really big! What is so appealing about MY front yard? It's neat, trimmed, edged, mowed every week, and I had freshly strung Christmas lights shining in the morning sunlight! Does it really invite this same man over and over to not only allow but encourage his to dog poop in it? Of all the yards in all the world? And why in the actual middle of the actual yard and not the patch of grass between the street and sidewalk? Why all up in my grassy business, right by my freaking house? I just do not understand this.

Meanwhile, I've finished season one of Gavin and Stacey on DVD. It's a BBC comedy/drama, and season one is six half-hour episodes of hilarity and delight. I enjoyed it so much. I watched all the behind the scenes stuff, and as usual, they made me like something I already liked even more. So sweet, so naughty, so funny, so romantic, so real. I was eager to get season two, but it has no release date yet in the U.S. I am bummed about this and will console myself by trying to incorporate more Welsh slang into my vocabulary.

Emmy ramble

Let me just say first and foremost that I am in love with Neil Patrick Harris. I have been in love with him since he was Doogie. I never missed an episode. I saw him standing outside the Nederlander in the summer of 1997. He was with Christine Taylor and they kissed on the lips. I loved that he loved Dr. Will on Big Brother. I love him as Barney. I love him as Dr. Horrible. I love him as himself. I LOVE HIM. That this Emmy telecast will be so all NPH, all the time means it might be the best ever, and I'm not even joking.

Super cute opening number. His voice is lovely. (Here he is singing in another white tuxedo many, many, many years ago.)

My favorite reaction shot so far is the redheaded waitress on True Blood sitting next to her husband, Benjamin Linus!

COMEDY

Comedy montage! The opening for the montage was really too long! The fire alarm scene on The Office was the funniest of all of these by far.

Presenters: Tina Fey & Jon Hamm. They both look pretty. It is hard to look pretty next to Jon Hamm. He is so stunning. And funny. And beautiful. Wow. Supporting actress in a comedy! Kristen Chenoweth has on weird 2009 glasses. I don't care for Jane Krakowski on 30 Rock. Elizabeth Perkins: also weird glasses. Amy Poehler: patch! Kristin Wiig: Lens thingie. Vanessa Williams: not playing with the props. WINNER: Kristen Chenoweth: SHOCKING. I am shocked to the max. She is a tiny little mouse and she's crying really hard. She'd like to be on Mad Men and The Office and 24. She's shaking and thanking her producers and cast and manager. She thinks NPH rocks. She looks gorgeous. Thanks the academy for recognizing a show that is no longer on the air. I did love you, Pushing Daisies. She hugs Tina Fey enthusiastically and leans on her on the way out. Tina Fey is a full head, if not more, taller than she is.

Cat Deeley is there! This makes every show better! Gorgeous and classy as always!

John Hodgman is also there. Another bonus! NPH is very amused by John Hodgman.

Presenters: NPH's co-stars on HIMYM! All of whom look great! Oh, Willow Rosenberg & Nick Andopolis, I love you forever. Writing for a comedy series! 30 Rock wins for Reunion, which was definitely a very funny episode. This guy Matt Hubbard looks very young.

Presenters: Julie Louis-Dreyfus & Amy Poehler! Supporting actor in a comedy. Cryer, Dillon, NPH (next to his beautiful BF), McBrayer, Morgan, Wilson. If NPH does not win I am GOING TO BE PISSED! Jon Cryer, oh for heaven's sake.

NPH is back, being adorable. The host lost. He is giving himself a pep talk and saying it's not awkward. Justin Timberlake is now onstage with very dark hair and thick-rimmed glasses. Justin Timberlake is a dreamboat. There, I said it. Lead actress in a comedy: Applegate (I love her, and I loved Samantha Who), Colette, Fey, Louis-Dreyfus, Parker, Silverman. Colette! Timberlake sounds suprised! She is beautiful but her tan is atrocious. I'm sorry, Toni, but it's true.

NPH! Congratulating Jon Cryer. And interviewing him in the press room! They are being cute.

Presenters: Serena & Blair in some crazy dresses. Serena's dress is basically obscene and Blair is way more gorgeous normally than she looks tonight. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Guest actress & guest actor in comedy series. Tina Fey (as Palin) & Justin Timberlake (overall SNL wunderkind) won! Sexy Back is playing! As it should. She is saying that Justin would still be very famous and very rich without Lorne Michaels, but she wouldn't be, so thanks Lorne Michaels. They are adorbs. Director in a comedy: Someone for The Office. The band version of the theme song is kind of weird. It was a really funny episode, so yay.

Presenter: Rob Lowe. A little too tan but still gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. Although I never think it's very nice to say that you turned a show down because it reminds whoever got the part that he wasn't the first choice. Are we talking about Dempsey here? Well, he's really the only one who could be McDreamy, I think -- he's just so rumply and wounded in a way that Rob Lowe could never be. Honestly I just miss Rob Lowe as Sam Seaborn. A lot. Lead actor in a comedy! I really want Steve Carell to win. But Alec Baldwin will. And so he does. He says he'd trade his Emmy to look like Rob Lowe! Which is very funny! And probably what every other man in the room (and possibly world) is thinking.

REALITY

Reality montage: I am enjoying this montage more than I can possibly say, maybe just because I love Britney's "Circus" so much. Even though I wish there were more SYTYCD. Poor Maksim & Karina just called off their engagement and now they have to dance together. Horrifying. For them. Great for us.

Presenters: Jon Cryer & Hayden Panettiere. Both of whom bore me. Reality host! Cat Deeley should be nominated. I would like Phil to win. But I agree with Linda Holmes that Tom Bergeron deserves it the most. Just say no to Probst. PROBST WINS. Oh, gag me. I agree with everything Linda said about this category. But he complimented NPH, which earns him points in my book. He is honored to be the face of Survivor. Barf? He is quoting Joseph Campbell. I can't deal with him. Next!

Presenter: Tracy Morgan. Makes me laugh. No matter what he says. Best reality show: Amazing Race always wins and that is because it is the best! I wish there were a special award for best reality contestant so Adam Lambert could win. Because he's clearly what made AI good this year and nothing else.

(I had to talk on the phone for a little while.)

Okay, Brendan Gleeson just won for playing Churchill. And I just want to take this opportunity to encourage the world to watch his amazing performance in In Bruges, a wonderful movie that is very brutal and violent and somehow manages to also be quite touching and utterly funny and weird and wonderful. I could not love it (or him in it) more. I loved seeing how enthusiastically his fellow Irishman Gabriel Byrne applauded for him. Yay!

Skipping some stuff! The accountants! Interrupted by Dr. Horrible! Hijacking the Emmys. It's a beautiful thing. Which much of the audience is not going to understand at all. But I don't care. And he just got punched by Dr. Hammer! Who is being hilarious! And there's Moist! And Penny! This is kind of good to be true. I can't even explain it. You've got to see it. And get Dr. Horrible today, if you haven't seen it. What are you waiting for?

Jessica Lange wins for Grey Gardens. I am scared to see what she looks like. Her eyes look a little weird, they really do, but over all, I'm very happy for her. My sister and I once followed her into a restaurant bathroom. She seems genuinely touched and surprised. I love Drew Barrymore. And I love that she is back with Justin Long.

VARIETY

(Missed this part!)

Jimmy Fallon running around with his voice like T-Pain. Steve Carell is laughing very, very hard. Jimmy Fallon is funny. I've never seen his late night show but his appearance locally in like 2001 made me laugh a lot. I LOVE THIS SONG FROM THE COLBERT CHRISTMAS SPECIAL. I watched it over & over and laughed/cried every time. I really hope it wins. I had forgotten about this Timberlake ESPY performance. He really can do anything. I hated Motherlover & hope it does not win. Well, Hugh Jackman's opening number took it. I can deny Hugh nothing, so good for him. (Even though he will never ever be better than he was in the Tony opening number of 2004, to which I will now link for the 47th time.)

Ricky Gervais! I love him. I hate that hideous tux but I love him. He makes everything better.

(Okay, this is when I stopped typing for the most part. A few miscellaneous remarks as follows.)

I loved Patrick Swayze as Orry Main before I loved him as Johnny Castle. That clip made me teary. (I realize North & South was ridiculous, but I was 10 years old and I LOVED IT.)

Wish they'd figured out a way for Stephen Moyer to lapse into Bill voice and say "SOOKIE!" while presenting.

Not impressed by how Matthew Weiner basically ditched his co-writer while running to stage.

Peggy's clip was monumentally spoilery for those who haven't started Mad Men yet but intend to. Oh well!

I love you, Gabriel Byrne.

(And that's all I wrote. I remain completely in love with Neil Patrick Harris and am so glad he is shining his light all over Hollywood and the world. Eliza out!)

Striking a balance

I spend a lot of time thinking about productivity and laziness. I wonder how much of each a life should contain. When I'm being lazy, I feel guilty about not being productive. When I'm being productive, I feel a sense of accomplishment and non-guilt for non-laziness, but it's not always a ton of fun or something that I feel gives life meaning. I find that I spend a lot of time feeling my way through this ... what I "want" to make time for vs. what I "should" make time for, and so forth.

This past weekend struck a nice balance between productivity and laziness. I want to keep a record of it, so I'll remember it the next time I find myself struggling with this. (I realize that even contemplating this is a luxury.)

Saturday morning dawned before dawn, as my mornings do these days, thanks to Zuko, who apparently can no longer sleep through the night. I was at the gym when its doors opened and set off on a swim, my first in nearly two weeks. It was difficult after such a long break from the pool, but it was nice to feel myself getting back into the rhythm of laps while a class full of people who must be training for something splashed rapidly through their drills all around me. Before going home and showering, I rushed to the farmers' market, dripping all the way. Lo! There were still eggs, so I bought two dozen, along with a basket of assorted peppers and some peaches from the very nice peach man for my mom, who loves them passionately.

My front bed had become overgrown and messy, so I spent several hours pulling weeds, hacking away at my witchhazel and lantana and ferns, and using the electric trimmer to try and get things under control. I hauled a giant pile of leaves and branches and weeds to the curb, got bitten by many mosquitoes, got scratched and covered in yard filth, and felt very satisfied in the end to have shed some blood & sweat working in my yard. My dogs had become messy themselves, so I bathed both of them, which is always a wet and wrestly experience that involves tremendous clean-up once it's all said and done. I love a clean dog, though, so it was worth it. My neighbor invited me to lunch, saying she needed a "big beer," so we went out for tomato basil soup with grilled cheese on focaccia (her) and a veggie burger with fries (me). We both had big beers.

The post-lunch afternoon brought me over to my little brother's apartment, where I planned to watch a couple of episodes of season two of True Blood ... I ended up staying for seven. We ate cheetos and baked Reese's Pieces cookies and mashed them still warm into caramel turtle ice cream. We laughed, we covered our eyes, we screamed; all of the best parts of watching this crazy show. He took a nap and came out hours later rubbing his eyes and laughing, "You're still here??" Finally I peeled myself off the couch and headed home for bed, drunk on sugar and vampires and the flaming hotness of Eric Northman. ("He's been named the hottest man in Sweden like 5 times!" my brother informed me.)

Sunday morning began in a very decadent way, as Zuko let me sleep until 6:30! It was magical. I went on a 14-mile bike ride, which was gorgeous, mostly because it was 65 degrees outside, which is downright freezing for August. Heaven! I spent the rest of the morning dusting, vacuuming, and tidying my house. If I could hire someone to do a chore for me, any chore, I would hire someone to vacuum my living room furniture. Or to shave my pets permanently bald. I love them, but their fur ... gah. Pet people, you know what I'm saying. (A dream of mine is to invest in some living room furniture off of which pet hair can be easily swept. Does such furniture exist?) This all took a very long time, but I blasted the Dr. Horrible soundtrack and then an angsty love mix by mo pie and lit a bunch of candles and everything smelled lovely and clean! I did three loads of laundry and overall got a lot of household drudgery taken care of. It won't last long, but it still felt great.

Later that afternoon, I headed back over to my brother's. We ate cheese pizza and drank Coke. Actual real Coke, which I hadn't had in years. Coke just doesn't really do it for me (thankfully), but it sure is good with cheese pizza. Wow! We watched the final 2 episodes of season two in order to be caught up for this week's new episode. There was more laughing, yelling, eye covering, and general ridiculousness. Seriously ... so much laughing. Good times.

I headed home and decided to bake some more cookies, this time from scratch. These were a bit messy (when melted chocolate is involved, along with an electric mixer, I inevitably end up with chocolate splattered from ceiling to floor, and I knocked over and spilled an entire new bottle of vanilla extract on the floor ... yay), but so, so good. I didn't bother toasting the walnuts or using sea salt and had to improvise on the double boiler issue. And I just used spoons to dole out the dough, so mine aren't perfect and cute and round like these. But they still taste mighty fine. And the recipe made a ton of cookies. And smashing Skor bars with a hammer is a great stress reducer.

Thus, to conclude, I spent a lot of time this weekend doing things I "needed" to do -- housecleaning, dog bathing, yard work, and exercising. But I also spent a lot of time doing things that were in no way "productive" -- eating junk food, watching the trashiest TV show known to man, etc. But I loved doing those things with my brother, so I definitely think it was time well spent. There are things missing from my life that I want to carve out time for: yoga, for one, because I need to both stretch and meditate more in a big way, and some kind of service to the greater good of humankind, for another. I will get to those soon, I hope.

Sometimes it's 2004 and the Garden State soundtrack is all the rage, and you are 29 and see the movie and you love it, along with a lot of other people, until everyone decides to hate it, and you listen to Frou Frou's "Let Go" a thousand times. And suddenly it's five years later, exactly, and you're 34 and you haven't listened to the song in a really long time and it reappears in your life on a mix from a good friend and it sounds somehow totally different and the same. And you fall in love with this song about letting go all over again, and you think about what you want to let go and what you want to keep, and it's like a little piece of your heart you forgot about is still there after all.

What I am coming to see this year in a new way is that our lives really are what we make of them. Most of us are lucky to be able to create the lives we want. Our lives are all different and our days are all filled with different things and different obligations and things to tend to -- jobs, classes, kids, pets, relatives, friends -- but for the most part, we can build a day like we want to, with certain hours carved out for this, and others carved out for that. It is kind of a beautiful thing when you really stop and think about it, being the architect of a day. I have really liked the days I have built for myself lately. I just want to recognize this and take a deep breath and have a moment of gratitude about it. So that is what I am doing. And now I am going to eat a cookie.

10 things

(1) I went to a yoga class at the unholy time of 5:45 a.m. After several days in a row of running, biking, or swimming, I needed a change. We warmed up with some breathing and eye exercises ... like look to the right, look to the left, look to the right, etc., and I thought, "This class is gonna be a breeze!" Wrong. So wrong. The teacher is a good friend of mine, almost like a sister, and I marveled at both her excellent teaching skills and her poses, many of which I could not even begin to complete. It's been a long time since I did yoga, sure, but I don't know that the day will ever come when I can actually do the simple poses of plank (have trouble straightening my back) and cobra (way too much lower back crunching) and upward dog (ditto) properly, and bow pose? I am so sure. Also, I fell over repeatedly in warrior three. I find that I hate any stretch or pose that arches the lower back in a crunching manner rather than rounding it in a lovely standing forward bend or child's pose kind of way. It just does not seem good for a lower back to be crunched in that way. Maybe I am missing something, but it always hurts and is monstrously unpleasant. I think my favorite pose of the whole class was bending over in cow face pose because I am a huge fan of anything that (a) rounds the back and (b) stretches and opens up the old hips, which I find notoriously hard to stretch effectively. (Other favorite hip poses? The pigeon, a.k.a. heaven, and the ridiculously but aptly named happy baby pose.) I hope to spend more time doing deep stretching and yoga in the coming weeks and months ... once I wrap up the next (and final, for a while, anyway) triathlon. I think my body really needs it.

(2) I watched 8 episodes of True Blood in two days. After watching the first four season one episodes a while back and never being able to rent the next discs because they are always checked out, I finally scored the last few discs and marathoned them. This show -- this show. It is so totally gross and ridiculous but so entertaining. I have to look away and fast forward sometimes through some of the really graphic stuff because I am a squeamish delicate flower, but overall, I enjoyed it so much and deem it perfect summer fare.

(3) I've been reading Shelf Discovery every night before bed and simultaneously loving every word and feeling deeply jealous that I didn't think to, with a little help from my friends, write this book myself! But no matter. I'm just glad it got written because it's hilarious and ultimately moving to read someone else's childhood impressions of Meg and Calvin and Charles Wallace and Claudia and Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler and Vicky and Adam and Harriet and Sally J. Freedman and all of the others. It's just an awesome walk down memory lane. (Here's how you can buy it from your friendly neighborhood independent bookstore.)

(4) Speaking of independent bookstores, check out this great interview by my old friend Melissa. I am very inspired by seeing her so totally in her element and doing what she was obviously meant to do.

(5) And speaking of memory lane, I've been enjoying a few really nice John Hughes tributes, including one by Molly Ringwald in the NYT and a SUCH a lovely story by a woman who was pen pals with Hughes when she was young.

(6) Recently I bought two new prints for my walls. Where I will hang these I do not know, and they still sit in their mailing tubes. But I'm just glad they're in my house because I like them. I would sort of like to rebuild my living space from the ground up. What is stopping me? Nothing!

(7) I made this zucchini bread with a ton of zucchini from the farmers' market that I needed to use up, and it was delicious, even though I forgot to add the vanilla. (Found via Tastespotting, my very favorite place to hunt for recipes and look at beautiful food.)

(8) I am kind of still loving summer in general. Lunches and dinners with friends, getting up early to run with Zuko or exercise, the farmers' market, visits to the dog park (where someone pointed out of Daisy, "She's got issues," which I frankly found a bit snotty and rude), Sunday brunch and gelato in New Orleans, and a night of excellent community theater ("I knew every word of every song growing up," my mom said as we listened to the soundtrack to The King and I on the way home).

(9) This picture makes me really happy, as does the Chuck Comic-Con panel, which is definitely worth watching if you're a fan of the show and have 34 minutes to spare. They are 34 minutes of pure delight.

(10) And finally, I leave you with this. I never knew how much I missed Tim Canterbury until now. O Timmy! My Timmy!

Clumsy times three

On Monday, these things happened:

(1) While parked at the coffee shop on my way into work with my pie on the front seat, I noticed a river of blue goo pouring off the edge of the pie dish all over the seat. I opened the car door and lifted the pie over myself as carefully as possible so as to not drip all over my white skirt and hung my feet out the car while I tried to sop up the juice with a combination of print-outs of triathlon registrations and a plastic bag. My feet started itching and burning wildly and I looked down to see they were covered in fire ants from the parking lot. Fun! I screamed, kicked my flip flops off, and slapped the ants off my feet with one hand while trying to balance the dripping pie away from my skirt. It was a great start to the day.

(2) After dinner, I carefully prepared a dessert of plain yogurt with diced strawberries and bananas and a little bran cereal. I pulled the top off the bottle of agave nectar in order to drizzle a few drops onto my bowl of heaven, and about a 1/2 cup of agave nectar gushed into my bowl, onto the counter, down the cabinet, and onto the floor. This is syrup so sweet that only a few tiny drops can sweeten an entire bowl of food. Now my yogurt was swimming in it, and cleaning it up everywhere else was just a picnic! Good times.

(3) Later, I was hand washing dishes, as is the life of a woman without a dishwasher, and I stabbed myself in the thumb with the sharp point of my damn corn on the cob holder, and it spurted blood.

What next? What next, Monday?

Clearly there was nothing to do but lie prostrate and watch The Bachelorette while reading Taran Wanderer.

Misc. things I'm enjoying:

(1) Swimming in the morning. Wonderful, meditative, exhausting way to begin summer days.

(2) Re-reading the Chronicles of Prydain. So comforting and refreshing. I was set to read Blood Meridian for book club, which I'm sure is an excellent book, but more than one person told me I should NOT read it, and knowing just a little of how violent it is, I'm not sure I can stomach that in a month like July. Or ever. I don't enjoy violence, for the most part, apparently, unless Colin Farrell is involved, such as in In Bruges.

(3) Posts about So You Think You Can Dance at Low Resolution (such as this latest one on the state of the dance floor) and A List of Things Thrown Five Minutes Ago (such as its latest post which recaps where we stand now with our top ten). These people love the show like I do but write about it and analyze it better than I ever could. I really cannot overstate the degree to which this show brings joy to my summer.

(4) Bravo's reruns of season one of The West Wing. I had forgotten how much I once loved this show and how wonderful it was in the beginning. I am loving this chance to rediscover it.

(5) Seeing my little brother play.

That's it for now.

Chuck

There are deeper shows on TV, more complex shows, shows with tighter plot logic, possibly even better comedies ... but none features as much pure, concentrated fun as "Chuck."  It's overflowing with joy, as if [the creators & writers] repeatedly ask themselves, "What else can we put into this scene that's awesome?"

--Alan Sepinwall on "Chuck"

[Note: I wanted to link back to that quote, but I wouldn't click on it and read the post if you're not a "Chuck" viewer, as it's the review of the season two finale and thus filled with spoilers a-plenty.]

As I have mentioned before, Sepinwall is my favorite TV critic and has been for a long time. I don't know why it took me so long to get on the Chuck bandwagon, of which he is a major leader. I'm just glad I finally did. 

I finished season two on iTunes last night. It was such an immensely satisfying experience, this immersion into the first two seasons of this show over the past six weeks or so, that I'm not sure how to explain it. I had no idea what I was getting into. I thought nothing could top season 1, but as season 2 went on, building and building as the stakes were raised episode after episode until the final 3 or so episodes which were just perfection after perfection, I would sit there watching almost in disbelief of how much I was enjoying it and how it made me swoon and laugh and clap my hands and even cry a little bit. 

I've never fallen so head over heels in love with a show like "Chuck". Maybe it's because I've never before seen a show like "Chuck." Or because there's never before actually BEEN a show like "Chuck." Ever. Watching it is just such a good time. 

When an episode of a show is off-the-charts awesome, Sepinwall sometimes frames his reviews in terms of Dayenu -- he explains that Dayenu "is a traditional folk song sung during the Passover meal, where you list all the amazing things God did for the Jews during the story of the Exodus from Egypt. After you list each one, you say if only God had done just that, 'Dayenu,' which means 'it would have been enough.' So when I see an episode like this one, overflowing with awesomeness, I feel the need to sing its praises as if I was just sitting around the seder table with my family." (Link to that explanation is here, but don't click on it if you aren't already a viewer because it's full of major spoilers.)

And that's kind of how I feel about the whole series. If the show just had Adam Baldwin's facial expressions and nonverbal grunts and groans and "unleash the Casey." If it just had Lester and Jeff and their ridiculousness. If it just had the relationship between Chuck and his big sister. If it just had the way Chuck looks at Sarah and Sarah looks at Chuck. If it just had shirtless Captain Awesome and the way he says "bro" and "dude." If it just had the whole concept of the Intersect. If it just had the undying loyalty between Chuck and Morgan. If it just had one of the many great guest stars. If it just had one of the incredible songs it features episode after episode. If it just had Zachary Levi and his wondrous combination of gangly, nerdy heroism and heart.

And after giving so many years of my life to a super heavy show like BSG and recovering from its end-run in March and then watching 43 emotionally draining episodes of In Treatment after that, I needed a show like this. I needed "Chuck." Maybe a TV show should not bring light and joy to your life. But I am a person who has always found joy in really good TV, and I am not ashamed of it, okay? I am just not ashamed in the least. And "Chuck" is really good TV. 

And I don't understand why more people don't watch it and love it. Maybe they just had the wrong idea about it like I did or never had someone sit them down and grab them by the shoulders and say, "What?! You don't watch this show?! You must! You would love it!" like my brother did to me. And he was so right. I just love it so much. You can watch all of Chuck on Hulu, it seems ... starting with season one ... I think would be a pretty swell way to spend the summer.

Catching Up

Before it gets away from me, I want to get a little down about a wonderful weekend. I've already posted about the concerts, which were both amazing, but I want to record what else went on. It was a rare weekend when the whole family was in town -- my sister and her husband (they live out of state) and my brother and his new girlfriend (they travel a lot). My sister had the inspired idea to rent out a private karaoke room at a Thai restaurant in an early celebration of my parents' 40th wedding anniversary. We thought about inviting other people, but in the end, it was just us, and we had what can only be called a blast. There was dancing, there was drinking, there was so much eating, and there was plenty of singing. One of my favorite parts was watching my mother watch my brothers sing together. Their harmonies were admittedly beautiful but she was just blown away. Many pictures were taken, some of which I will eventually get around to posting. We also went to one of my brother's gigs, had boiled crawfish, had beignets and cafe au lait, and just had a merry time. I loved having everyone here. Just sitting around eating my mom's crawfish etouffee or lying around on the bed with my sister and brother-in-law were delightful. It was a really wonderful weekend and one I will not soon forget.

Randomness: The Great Performances special In the Heights: Chasing Broadway Dreams is excellent, even if you are not familiar with the show. Definitely worth checking out.

Meanwhile. I am still watching season two of Chuck and loving it a lot and am thrilled it has been renewed. I am reading The Wednesday Wars, finally, and loving it.

I got from Netflix the DVD of the Rent: Live on Broadway special that my brother and I went to see last fall. The special features are indeed quite special. I highly recommend both the live stage show itself as well all of the featurettes, which are VERY WONDERFUL. Seeing Jonathan Larson's parents and sister, all kinds of backstage goodness, the longtime crew members, the closing cast, the original cast (except Adam Pascal -- where were you, Adam Pascal? What could have been more important than this?). Everyone crying and laughing and singing and embracing and remembering, forget about it, it was too much, the tears poured like rain. Rent, I thought I was all cried out over you. But I was wrong.

Once again I have found myself engaging in last minute triathlon registration ridiculousness. A few days ago, I signed up for one that is tomorrow. The distances aren't terribly long, so I think I'll be okay, though I am a bit apprehensive about the biking part since the farthest I've ever gone in my life was seven miles. I'm just going to take it slow, try not to fall off or crash, and try to enjoy myself. I'm viewing it as a chance to road trip with a friend and as good practice for the one in August. I know myself, and I know my anxiety over that one will be greatly lessened over the summer by having this one under my belt.

This morning I went to the farmer's market and came away with fresh eggs, cucumbers, strawberries, bell peppers, yellow squash, and carrots. I feel really good about this. The dogs also approve.

Awful run, weird dinner, great show

I've fallen off the fitness wagon this week in a big way. Really the past few weeks. No huge shock -- it happens. Tonight I embarked on my first run in nearly three weeks and boy did it suck. I can't remember a worse run in my life. I honestly can't. I blame three weeks of slacking off, the heinous humidity, the not so healthy eating I've been doing this week, and the weird pain in my diaphragm area that made me feel like I couldn't catch my breath. Awesome! 2 miles, man. It was just terrible. But I willed myself not to quit, and I feel good about that.

I just whipped up a very bizarre dinner with canned pinto beans, slivered almonds, frozen peas, garam masala, sesame oil, kamut/quinoa pasta, and feta cheese. Yeah, those things don't sound like they go together to me either. But they were basically all I had to choose from so I just threw caution to the wind and went for it. It was not great but wasn't altogether disgusting, either.

It's a big day, America. It's the season premiere of So You Think You Can Dance, which brought me tremendous joy last summer. I just love this show. This article really says it all. I think people have a lot of misconceptions about this show if they've never seen it. It's so, so good. Great host, great stories, great dancing. Don't let Mary's screaming scare you off. Don't let some of the outrageous audition nonsense give you the wrong idea. Once the top 20 is picked, it becomes a serious and glorious competition. Love! And ... it's starting right now. And the first audition is giving me chills. This show is just phenomenally good, I swear.

I guess that's all I have to say tonight.

Catching up & rambling

A few more words on Chuck: I finished season one and loved every second of it. I spent way too much money for a season pass for the second season on iTunes, but it's worth it to me. I'm two episodes in, and it continues to delight. One of the miracles this show has worked in my life is that it's actually made me like the actress who played the much hated Madison on Everwood. I never would have thought this to be possible, but Chuck is just magical that way.

Last weekend was a nice one. I spent Saturday morning at a little women's retreat led by my mom, and I was so proud. She did a wonderful job. She was funny, assured, inspiring, and wise.

Mother's Day was good. Morning mass followed by an afternoon gig of my brother's, where we ate boiled shrimp and had a merry time. After that, I went on a bike ride for the first time in at least 15 years. I borrowed my friend's bike and rode in her peaceful neighborhood with little to no traffic, which was a good plan. Only once did I end up messing up a turn and rolling inadvertently into someone's front yard. I'm still not entirely sure how to brake and turn, but I didn't fall down and rode for a solid 30 minutes, so I feel great about it!

(A few days later...) Ow. Ow, ow, ow. So cried my back for the next four days. I think leaning over the handlebars and clutching them in a death grip due to being someone nervous on the bike pulled some muscles in my back. It's finally feeling somewhat normal again after not exercising in several days. O Lord.

One night this week, I celebrated my dad's birthday with my parents. Fresh green beans with real butter, corn on the cob, whole wheat spaghetti, fresh pineapple, broccoli salad, and some kind of pounded meat cutlet-y thing. And limoncello! It was good to visit with them and celebrate the wonder that is my dad.

I've read the first section (CORN) of The Omnivore's Dilemma and a little bit of the next section (GRASS). It's a book club assignment, and I had to think long and hard about actually starting it because I feared it would make me more neurotic about food than I already am. I have to turn a blind eye to most of the things I put in my mouth because the freaked out germophobe in me can't tolerate to think about where any of it came from. I'm like, hello, little grape. Did a cow ever take a poop on you? (I know that makes no sense.) I'm not sure that's so healthy, especially when I've been trying to for the most part eat whole and natural foods this spring. That's really a movement towards eating more consciously for me, and I don't want to avoid a book that will shed light on where some of that food comes from. I have to say that the corn section has basically made me never want to think about ever touching any part of any animal fed with corn ever again. Even though last night I ate and enjoyed a giant ear of corn on the cob. Wha? It made me actually mad at corn. Like, how dare you, corn, for being so insidious and being in everything human beings eat and drink? I don't want to be mad at corn. I like corn. Especially when it's boiled with a bunch of crawfish. Which are born in ditches as far as I know. So that is obviously an acceptable grossosity to me. It's hard to decide what is acceptable and what is not.

It's a lot to process. I eat beef once in a blue moon. Hardly ever. Maybe three times a year. Including last night at my parents' house. And it was tasty, but it's just not my thing, unless it's my mom's famous roast. But I do eat dairy products and lots of them. And I eat a lot of chicken, and I eat a lot of eggs. I would really like to go cold-hard vegan, but I don't really know what that would solve for me. I don't want to start eating Boca burgers and fake-ass food like that. I know I could live without beef and chicken and possibly even shrimp though that would be hardest for me as I truly love shrimp. But I do not think I would do well without eggs and cheese.

I don't know. It's a lot to think about. I don't want to obsess about food, but I also want to. I want to know what I'm eating and really think about it and really savor what tastes good and is good for me. But I don't want drive myself crazy. I'd like there to be balance. I'm not sure how. As I was reading the corn section and contemplating the wrongness and badness of "processed" food and food pesticided and horomoned and chemicaled and antibioticed out the wazoo, I comforted myself by thinking, well, there's always Whole Foods. But then I got to the GRASS section. Which so far basically boils down to the fact that Whole Foods and everything sold under its roof is a big fat lie. And it galls me that I've never given much thought to trying to only eat produce that's in season and local hasn't been shipped from a million miles away. I want to be better about this, to do better.

I want to eat healthy things that don't harm my body or the earth. But what are those things? Seriously, what are we supposed to eat? I would really like to know.

(Still more days later ...) I can't seem to wrap this up! I bought a bike! My classmate was selling her gently used bike, a bike that looks like this. I have no idea if this is a good bike or a bad bike, but my sister and BFF tell me it is, and my classmate is nice and trustworthy, and it looks fine to me! My dad gave me his gently used helmet. I am ready to start really learning how to ride it even though I am kind of spastic and scared. This is not exactly a bike-friendly town, though some people are trying hard to make it more so.

Another weekend has gone by. So busy! Spent yesterday in French Quarter with my cousin, attending mass at the cathedral (banging gong drum in choir loft ... so crazy ... I loved it!), running through the rain to brunch at Muriel's, where we ate crawfish hash and crawfish crepes with goat cheese and drank mimosas and yum, and a couple of bars where we nursed family wounds and more mimosas and laughed and remembered. It was a drizzly but nice day. Early Saturday morning, I went biking, and it was very painful and I need some good padded biking shorts right away. Between the cars, bikers, and joggers (even at 7 a.m.) and the crippling nether region pain, I basically rode in constant fear of collision and death and permanent groin paralysis and only made it 3.6 miles. Biking is scary. But I have to learn, and I will!

I am very, very, very excited about Glee.

Meanwhile, some very sad things have happened to some of my friends, and I am thinking of them & love them very much.

Running, swimming, and CHUCK!

I ran in a 5K race recently with some friends. I was intimately familiar with the route, which was nice on many levels. I ran about 11:30-miles, which is REALLY GOOD for me. I felt really accomplished when I was done. As I puttered red-faced and panting toward the finish line, a very fit runner who was clearly lapping back and had finished long before me shouted, "Good job, runner!" It took me a second to realize that she was addressing me. Encouraging me. She called me "runner," like that was my name. I found it very moving. Perhaps it was just the adrenaline and the level of poopedness I felt at that moment, but her yelling that to me at that moment seemed a real act of kindness. Sometimes I think the best thing about doing races is the community aspect of it. Sure, I pass people on runs all the time because about a million people run where I run, and sometimes there's a nod or a even a little wave or a "Good morning" or a "Cute dog!" but strangers don't make a practice of cheering each other on -- unless you're in a race situation. She was done, she had probably been one of the first to finish based on her Dara Torres-esque physique, and she was just running in the opposite direction for fun, or to cool down, or whatever, but she smiled and said, "Good job, runner." Thanks, whoever you were.

I am trying to mentally prepare myself to arrive at a pool for 6 a.m. on a Sunday morning and then jump in it and start swimming. Holy crap. It's a good thing I have a disc of Chuck to keep me company. It's my first Netflix in a while not to be In Treatment, which has nine discs. I finished season one of In Treatment, and as I've mentioned, it was wonderful. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, staggeringly wonderful. I will never forget many moments of this season -- particularly, I will never forget the character of Sophie and how much her arc and her phenomenal portrayer, Mia Wasikowska, moved me to the point where I had actual physical reactions to every one of her episodes, having to assume multiple couch positions just so I would not feel like I was coming out of my skin until the closing credits and I could relax again. This show made me cry constantly and laugh sometimes and most of all think. I felt drained and invigorated and terrified and relieved and heartbroken and basically every other state of emotion on the human emotional scale while following the stories, especially Sophie's, and then Alex's. Not so much Jake and Amy's. Laura's made me want to throw up on every level. But all in all. What a great show.

Speaking of Chuck, WHY HAS NO ONE TOLD ME HOW GOOD IT IS? Under what rock have I been living? I noticed that my fave TV critic, Alan Sepinwall, wrote an open letter to NBC recently saying that it's the best show they have on air and that canceling it would be a huge mistake. Considering that this is the network of 30 Rock, The Office, and Friday Night Lights, I knew this was very high praise. So I've been peripherally aware of the threat of cancellation, but I've never laid eyes on this show or known anything about its plot or characters until last night. And I was in love with it seriously by the end of the first five minutes of the pilot. My little brother is a huge fan, and the fact that he loves a show so much that I've never even seen is very weird and unusual. He said it makes him feel so happy every time he watches it. I don't know how I didn't know this until recently. Anyway, I love it, and I've now seen the first four episodes, and I love Zachary Levi so much that I can't even fathom that 24 hours ago my television landscape and life as a whole did not include him, and I love seeing the hero of Canton, the man they call Jayne again. I love it! That it even faces the possibility of being cancelled is a crime. What is wrong with you, NBC? You should be ashamed of yourself!

In Treatment and other stuff.

(The following paragraph contains spoiler information related to casting for season one of In Treatment. You might want to skip it if you care about that sort of thing. I won't give anything away specifically in regards to the plot, but you might be able to infer things about the plot from this information.)

(Spoilery information starts ...)

I'm midway through week 8 of season one of this show with one more week to go. Like most people of my generation, I suspect, I first saw Glynn Turman as Col. Taylor on A Different World, one of my favorite shows of the '80s-'90s. I never missed an episode. And I liked him on that well enough but never really knew what he was capable of as an actor, clearly, because he so stunned me with his performance on In Treatment that I could not stop crying for the entire episode. I mean, I cried the entire way through. He was so good and so powerful that I couldn't stop thinking in the back of my mind, while the power and sadness of the episode and his performance swirled around me and streamed down my face, "If he did not win the Guest Actor Emmy for this performance, there is NO justice in the world!" Once the episode ended, I looked it up, and he did! He won. And my God, he deserved it. There have been episodes of this show that have had me on the edge of my seat, certainly, particularly the ones with Sophie and with Gina (Dianne Weist won the Best Supporting Actress Emmy! I just learned this, too! Hooray!). But I think this one surpassed them all. Wow. That's all I can really say. If I had to describe the emotional impact of this show on me, I think I would have to say that 37 episodes in, it has really taken it out of me. But it has also filled me right back up again. Over and over. It's been a strange and wonderful TV experiment and experience for me. I might have to sign up for HBO for the first time in my life just so I can dive into season two.

(... spoilery information over.)

I don't think I mentioned that AB Chao and Co. came to town last month. It was great to see them. It should come as no surprise that they're a fun bunch. It is strange to think that she lives so near and yet so far. Soon I shall join her group, Bench Monday. I just need to find myself a good sturdy bench.

I am making preliminary plans to go back to D.C. and to Hawaii this year. I need to get myself together and make it happen. I am about to get dressed to go to Jazz Fest with my brother. I cannot believe Today Is Avett Brothers Day. Last year? April 29. This year? April 26. Perhaps this should just become an April tradition. I cannot wait. I am about to freak out with excitement. More later!

Randomosity

(1) I now own my favorite comfy summer sandal in three colors (black, chocolate, and tan), which is possibly excessive. But wearing these sandals basically feels like not wearing shoes at all. I love them. (A note on sizing: I normally wear an 8.5, but the size 8 in these fits perfectly. I have a narrow foot, so your mileage may vary.) I am not the type of person who can wear sassy summer sandals every day of the week. My feet just cannot handle it. These sandles are awesomely comfortable, and I think everyone should buy a pair. So let it be written, so let it be done.

(2) I've never known much about the Buckleys; maybe I've been living under a rock, but they've never really been on my radar. I remember seeing Christopher Buckley last year on The Daily Show and thinking he was funny, and I remember the brouhaha surrounding his endorsement of Obama. But that's about it. The Buckleys might all be a bunch of a-holes for all I know. I read this story today by Christopher Buckley today. It's definitely tinged with a certain snootocity that might just come with being a Buckley, but I got the sense that a lot of love and care went into writing it. It moved me. Like, a LOT.

(3) Elissa, yes! It's okay. Not writing about it around here. But it's okay.

(4) Big fan of tonight's dinner!

That there is a whole wheat English muffin topped with (probably very unhealthy, but whatever) jarred pizza sauce along with broccoli, fresh rosemary, celery, onion, garlic, green bell pepper, yellow squash, chicken breast with lots of cayenne pepper, and a little grated mozzarella cheese. I sauteed all the toppings (except for the cheese, obviously) in a skillet in olive oil before baking the teeny pizzas because the last time I attempted to make pizza without cooking the veggies first they stayed rock hard. This way worked like a charm. Yum!

(5) Not that this is in any way original, but my Adam Lambert obsession began weeks ago and is still going strong. I decided from the first time I saw him on American Idol that he is made to star on Broadway as Judas in Jesus Christ Superstar. A little YouTube scouring, and voila! A preview of what is clearly his destiny. I also quite frankly enjoy Adam Lambert in a face full of make-up with a bare midriff. How did we live before YouTube? I'll never know. My sister is staunchly in the Kris camp, and he is definitely adorable and talented, but there is something about this seasoned, make-up wearing, boy kissing musical theater guy making it big on the national stage that really appeals to me.

(6) I am on the hunt for a healthy bread I can make sandwiches with pretty much every day of the week for lunch. I am willing to buy it at Whole Foods/Paycheck if necessary. I just do not know what to look for when it comes to sandwich bread. It all seems to have dozens of ingredients. Does anyone know of a healthy or semi-healthy loaf of bread I can buy?

Easter weekend

Good Friday was not a holiday this year, as I worked all day. After work, I headed to see my friend M's new house, which is beautiful. It is always fun to see her and her girls. I love being able to watch them grow up.

On Saturday morning, I worked on homework for three solid hours in my jammies. Then I went on a three-mile jog, which was pleasant if a bit hot. I headed into the office for the afternoon, which was not the thrill of my life.

That evening was more homework plus hours upon hours of In Treatment, which is so good I can hardly believe it. I cannot stop thinking about that show. I hold my breath for entire episodes at a time. Gabriel Byrne is so good. I thought nothing could ever surpass the way I love him in the proposition scene in Camelot, but he is just blowing me away in this role. (I still cannot watch that without crying, but I never cry as hard as I did when it first aired last May, as I started to literally project it onto the upcoming presidential election -- having thoughts like, "This is the time of Obama, when we shall reach for the stars! This is the time of Obama, when violence is not strength, and compassion is not weakness! WE ARE CIVILIZED! Resolved!" Anyway.)

And Dianne Wiest ... forget about it. She astounds. (Can I just say that I have loved her since Footloose and how amazed I remain by the fact that for some mysterious reason her parents lived two doors down from my BFF growing up, in this very town? And that my BFF met her and asked her what it was like to work in The Lost Boys with the Coreys? I am not making this up.) Anyway, this show is awesome. An evening with my stir-fried chicken and veggies over rice noodles and this show was actually a mighty fine Saturday night in my book. Topping it off with Zac Efron on SNL was just icing on the cake.

Easter dawned with a trip to the grocery store, where I ran into an old friend from graduate school whom I haven't seen since the summer of '98 and who is visiting for Easter break. He looked exactly the same. He wrote a poem about each of us in our little group, and I still have the one he wrote about me. Ah, memories. Unfortunately, I spent most of the day slogging through more homework. When it was time for evening mass with my little brother, it started dumping rain. We got quite wet on the way in, and there was a sparse crowd. Good music, short mass, people in jeans, fine by me. After dinner, we met the other brother, his new girlfriend, and her visiting sister for sushi. Everyone but the sister was eager to discuss Friday Night Lights. My older brother was the only hold-out among the siblings in terms of hearts set aflame for this show, and now he's come over to the light. Both brothers admitted that the show makes them weep openly. This show brings people together, I am telling you. I'm so glad it's not over yet. (This is a frank, lovely, and very moving column by Scott Porter, a.k.a. Jason Street. Warning: full of season three spoilers if you're not caught up.) It was strange not having the parents in town for Easter, but it was still a decent day, homework drudgery notwithstanding.

I spent a little time yesterday making brownies with rolos, chocolate chips, and toffee. Usually these are made with chocolate cake mix, but I decided to use yellow to give things a different spin. I made them for my hardworking work peeps, and they seem to be a hit.

Speaking of baking, there is something about Tastespotting that makes me happy. I can scroll through this site for untold hours. I've never made anything from the recipes, but I'd like to. Even if I never do, this site releases actual endorphins within me. My body feels actually warmed when viewing the pictures. It is very strange. These pictures and the whole layout and concept of the site make me feel blissed out and satisfied.

I have not yet indulged in sweets. I've decided to break the fast with something sweet at my favorite cafe when it reopens soon. At least I'll know whatever pastry I decide on is homemade, handmade, fresh, and fabulous. I was semi-tempted to enjoy some leftover Easter candy dumped in the work candy bowl today, but I decided to wait for something really special. Hence the grapes I just had for dessert. Exciting!

Meanwhile, I was very sad to learn of the death of Judith Krug. Watch or read a great speech she gave back in 2002. She was a warrior and, in my opinion, a true American hero.

Sunday

I love the Internet sometimes, I truly do.

Last week, I followed Matt Logelin's link to this video. The video itself is gorgeous -- amazing footage and photos of a father and daughter whose story I've been following for the past year or so -- and I fell in love with the song. I looked up the artist. I downloaded her album. I've been listening to it all week. She might be a new favorite. And I am so interested in ways that we discover music, and I like to remember how I discovered music I love. So, this is how I discovered Amy Seeley. Since then, the line "been realistic about love, been optimistic about the weather" has been floating through my mind pretty much 24 hours a day. Not sure why.

I followed a link at kottke.org to this site, which is clever, funny, and ultimately very moving. The numbered rules are in red, and the accompanying quotations and photographs and captions are delightful lagniappe. This site is full of basic life advice that we'd all be better off following. So many of the sports-related ones reminded me of my dad and brothers. I love this site; it just kills me.

My friend Grace wrote a really nice post recently about food. I have more to say about this, but it can wait.

This video caused me great amusement and delight, possibly because I also have a dog named Daisy. She does not jump like this often, but Zuko does, every day, while outside, on the sliding glass door, wanting to come inside. Weirdo.

And now, random rambling. This week has been a blur of I don't even know what. Sushi & beer at happy hour (fun). Stressing about school (not fun). Stressing about work (SO not fun). I am sad about the end of ER. Even though I missed many-an episode over the 15 year course of the show, I saw a whole lot of them, and it's certainly the longest running show I've followed in my lifetime. I chose Chicago Hope over ER in 1994 and stuck with it for a long time, but I always ended up back with ER, and it obviously long outlasted its initial competition. I have a real fondness for many of those County General characters; I think the softest spot will always be for Carter. I don't know why. I also have never forgotten that sweet and sad scene when Carol tells Luka goodbye and explains that she's been in love with Doug since she was 23 years old. It's weird to think that was in season 6, and here we are, at the end of season 15. I never cared for Sam or Gates despite really liking the actors who played them. I loved Neela. I was very taken by this new, foxy, tortured Dr. Brenner and I'm convinced he will be a big star. This show has been on forever. I don't know why it's affecting me, but it is. I loved how they used old school-style opening credits for the final episode. How could America not break out in simultaneous smiles and tears upon seeing Benton kneel down and do that familiar punching move.

And once again I killed my iPhone. It stopped syncing or charging after an unfortunate encounter with my ceramic tile. The genius bar girl regarded me knowingly after shining a light into the base of the phone and said, "It appears to be a hardware problem." I nodded guiltily in silent acknowledgment of its contact with the floor. She noted that my original warranty had expired. I sighed, "Yes." Then she kept typing and her eyes widened and she broke out into a giant grin. She was obviously delighted to discover that I had five days left on my replacement model's warranty. "I'm so happy for you!" she smiled. "I'm so happy for me, too!" I said. It was a smile fest. Thanks, Apple. Tip: She said that we should only plug our iPhones into the car charger in emergencies. She said it's a "trickle charge" that is not good for the phone and to use the wall charger whenever possible. I told her that I plug that thing into the car charger every time I get in the car. "Oh, that's NOT good," she said. So -- word to the wise, straight from the mouth of the genius bar girl. Chill with the car chargers.

Yesterday evening I did a 5K with some friends, and I have to say, it was a great time. A big street party before and after, basically. My friend and I might join the running club that put it on. It was inspiring to see all of the super-fit runners and also the not-so-fit ones who were there pounding the pavement. It was a beautiful night and the pink azaleas were blooming along the route and the sun was lowering in the sky and it was just swell. The live music, the amber beer, the visiting. Excellence all around.

This morning I went to visit with my parents for about an hour and a half while they prepared to depart on their trip to Sicily. It is funny to sit there as an observer as they pack last-minute things and call across the house about remembering this and that. They pack funny things. Zone bars and Triscuits and large styrofoam cups so my dad can have bigger cups of coffee than they serve in Italy. My dad was in full-on travel garb; it looks like his pants and shirt were designed by Rick Steves himself. We got into our cars at the same time and I happened to have Josh Groban singing "Mi Mancherai" from my dad's beloved Il Postino on the mix CD in my car, so I queued it up and played it loud in honor of their trip, and that beautiful violin played the opening bars of that beautiful music. (The ones starting at 0:26 of that clip.) They started slow dancing faux-dramatically in the driveway. I am excited for them. They love Italy so much.

Finally, I can scarcely recall being more excited for any concert event in recent memory than I am for Brandi Carlile. I was excited to see the Avett Brothers last April, sure, but my love for them was in its initial budding stages when I saw them onstage for the first time, so I had not built up that much pre-concert excitement. My Brandi love has only intensified since first discoving her, and I just know in my heart it's going to be one of those concerts where tears start leaking out of my eyes the moment the artist steps on stage and don't cease until possibly when I'm driving home or falling asleep that night. In between then and now, I'm seeing the Avetts again, and I just learned yesterday that the Indigo Girls are playing the night before Brandi, and I haven't seen them in concert in this state since the mid-90s, and I just feel like April and May are going to be two glorious months for live music in my life, and it feels like just what I need.

Catching Up

This weekend was also all about friends but in a quieter way. My friend who was meant to fly home to Hawaii was delayed, so we spent Friday evening at our other friend's daughter's 2nd birthday party which went somewhat awry due to illness.

The next morning, I tried and utterly failed to do homework. That afternoon, we returned to the scene of the birthday party to help do some pantry cleaning, which is always easier to do when it's not your own pantry. That evening, I was on my own and watched Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, which was disappointing after enjoying the book so much. I also watched Zack & Miri Make a P0rn0, which was mostly a little too vulgar for the likes of Eliza, though Elizabeth Banks=great.

Sunday was a nice patio coffee and bagel date with my friend and Ghost Town, which I liked much more than I thought I would. The writer/director, David Koepp, has a huge list of credentials behind him (mostly as a writer of major blockbusters). I thought the whole thing was sweet, funny, un-blockbuster-y, and charming. Gervais, Leoni, and Kinnear can basically do no wrong in my book, and throw in a little Kristin Wiig and Billy Campbell and Aasif Mandvi and I'm sold. I could easily watch this again, and I know I'll listen to the commentary because life is too short to deny oneself any Ricky Gervais doing commentary as far as I'm concerned. This movie totally flew beneath the radar for me, and I'm glad I decided to rent it. On paper, it seems like it would be sort of wretched, but the cast and Koepp pull it off somehow. The bloopers reel also gets a big thumbs up.

This weekend also involved taking my fave five-year-old to the dog park, which was fun and exciting but also mildly terrifying, like, what if one of these dogs takes a big bite of her hand on my watch? Dog parks are generally happy shiny places but sometimes these loving family pets devolve into savages when thrown together. A dog park is an uncontrollable place! But it all went well, and we had fun. The best news was that Daisy and Zuko had their first ever meaningful reaction with a small child, and it went swimmingly. They thought she was the bomb diggity and did not try even remotely to eat her. I think it might have been because she was about their size and gave them treats and they sensed her pure, childlike, blissed-out dog love. Shame on me for not doing a better job socializing them, it's totally my fault, but I was so relieved and overjoyed that they were great with her because I think she'd somewhat celebritized them in her mind and I didn't want her to be disappointed if they were on their worst behavior, which they weren't. They totally showed off for her, sprinted through the yard, rolled around, sat on command, and were adorable. It was a trio of adorableness all around. Yay, dogs and children!

Last night I petted my friend's belly and talked to the guys growing inside. I felt not only kicks but what can only be described as rolls and squirms. Which was thrilling beyond belief, frankly, and made me scream. I also kissed them goodbye and my friend humored me and all of my belly love. I will miss all three of them more than I can say.

Castle is a cute show, but I find that it stretches the whole suspension of disbelief a bit far if they honestly expect us to believe that the lead female detective would be able to maintain this ruse of being constantly annoyed by Nathan Fillion at all times. I'm sorry, but who is more charming than Nathan Fillion? In any role? Even Dr. Hammer? Nobody, that's who. At least David Addison misbehaved and was really juvenile and ridiculous and earned Maddie Hayes' annoyance with him at all times. But Nathan Fillion's Castle is a successful author, a doting son, and a devoted father. And ... he's Nathan Fillion. What is to be annoyed by? Unbelievable. But still entertaining. Especially when Hallie Lowenthal is a guest star.

Meanwhile, my new Indigo Girls CD arrived this afternoon, and I can't wait to listen to it. I'm not sure what else to say. I made yet another giant stir-fry tonight. I had a wonderful run on Sunday and my heart sang with the joy of beholding dozens of people out around the lakes enjoying the beautiful weather. I had a horrible run this evening during which I felt alternately like barfing, dying, and passing out like Margie in Thailand on The Amazing Race. Once again, I thank Kelly Clarkson for getting me through.

Weekend with old friends

MONDAY! I just spent an enjoyable hour visiting with my BFF, who's been in town for the weekend. We talked while I browned my drained-for-days tofu in olive oil and invented a yummy stir fry with broccoli, carrots, onion, celery, and garlic. Made up a random sauce with soy sauce, sesame oil, a drop of molasses, and black pepper. Then I threw in some walnuts just for good measure. And some frozen peas, why not? I'm eating it over quinoa, and it's very tasty! I love made-up food.

It was a busy and crazy fun weekend. I took the day off on Friday at a very inappropriate time of year to spend my BFF's birthday with her. We went shoe shopping, ate Lebanese food for lunch, and went to my favorite cafe. That night, we had dinner with our other BFF -- macadamia nut tacos over fried rice, shrimp tempura rolls, BBQ chicken pizza, plum wine, you name it!

Afterwards, we headed to a crawfish boil / karaoke party for our friend's rehearsal dinner, which was festive. At one point in the evening, my old friend and I headed to the most vile bar in creation because I thought my brother was playing there, but I was sadly mistaken. A frat boy took a giant handful of my bottom as I walked by. It was unpleasant but unsurprising. I should have known better than to set foot in that heinous place, where you get stuck in the crowd and end up fighting your way through the sweaty masses with a feeling not dissimilar to what it must feel like to stand in sewer. Not good! Overall, the day and night were great, though. It's just really good to be around people you've known forever, isn't it?

Saturday dawned, and I'm drawing a blank. I brought my friend who stayed with me to a brunch. Eventually it was time to get dressed for our friend's wedding reception, held outside on a terrace overlooking the river, and it was GORGEOUS. Beautiful bride, beautiful friends, beautiful night.

Yesterday, the BFFs and the cousin and I went to a coffee shop and had a non-shower for the friend pregnant with twin boys. We drank coffee and ate cake and gave her some gifts. It was nice to sit out in the sunshine together.

This is not very exciting, but my heart was very full this weekend.

I didn't eat cake because I still haven't cheated on my no-sweets-for-Lent resolution, which is shocking beyond belief. I finally sat down to watch the Battlestar Galactica series finale yesterday afternoon after basically resorting to a media blackout for two days. (No spoilers to follow.) All I'll say is that I'm so glad this show has been in my life for the past few years. In July of 2006, when I first started watching the show, I wrote, "Last night I watched the first 45 minutes or so of the Battlestar Galactica miniseries. When you can realize that greatness is unfolding not even an hour into a new show, it's pretty exciting. The cast seems solid, the premise is intriguing, and it's got heartache and comedy and sex and war and outer space and that's pretty much a perfect show right there ... it's going to be fun to immerse myself in this universe, I can already tell." Who knew the ride I was in for? I still marvel that my brother picked up the miniseries a few short months ago and flew through the entire series, Razor, and the webisodes in time to catch up before watching the finale this weekend. Talk about immersion! We agreed that we don't even really care what happened in the finale. We just feel like the show has been a gift.

I guess I have nothing else to say for now. Sometimes I wish all we ever had to do in life is sit around with those who speak the same shorthand language that we do and eat, drink, and be merry.

Monday

Rainy days & Mondays, etc. The sun is allegedly coming out tomorrow, and it will not be soon enough for me! We had a very gray and rainy weekend. My first annual St. Patty's Day Parade party was wet and small but spirited. (As spirited as it could be in the rain.) It was great to see everyone who showed up (several of whom had to trek on foot quite a ways in the rain to get here) and particularly to meet my old friend's new baby for the first time.

After everyone went home, I basically prostrated myself on the couch and watched Rachel Getting Married. Though there were things I didn't love about it, I can't stop thinking about it. It's staying in my system for some reason. The main thing I didn't like, and this isn't really a spoiler since the title tells you someone's getting married, is how eclectic and sensational and diverse Rachel's friends were during the whole wedding celebration weekend. I was like, who in the world really knows a group of people this creative, this interesting, this every color of the rainbow, this musically talented, this artistic? It felt really artificial to me somehow. Then it occurred to me that lots of people are probably part of groups like that and the fact that I'm not (though I'd like to be) doesn't mean they don't exist. Other than that, I thought it was a pretty astonishing and wonderful film. Anne Hathaway definitely deserved all of the accolades she got, and Rosemarie DeWitt as Rachel and Debra Winger as the mom were also amazing. I am very glad I saw it. It wasn't a feel good film per se, and the subject matter was dark and harrowing and heartbreaking at times, but it still totally made me feel good. It was real.

My mom and I spent most of yesterday shopping. I bought a new dress that I love. We had a really fun time together.

Switching gears, if you've left a comment on the site lately that I haven't published, please do not take it personally ... I would reply privately, but I'm not sure how to contact those of you who've left these comments. Sometimes people leave perfectly lovely comments that contain content I don't really want aired out publicly, that's all. I appreciate your comments and your interest and your reading! That is for sure.

Just when I thought the recipe I described here couldn't get any better, I decided to make it again today and added frozen peas and ... fresh pineapple chunks! Wow. The pineapple chunks (added just towards the end, they don't really need to cook) sent this dish to a new level of deliciousness. I am completely in love with it.

This is going to be a week of trying to move things along at work as things get busier and busier, attempting to exercise, and looking really really really forward to the coming weekend of fun, frolicking, and festivity with my oldest and dearest friends. I can't really think of anything else to say except I can't wait to watch tonight's Battlestar Galactica: The Last Frakkin' Special.

On that note, I think it's time to revisit Battlestar Galactica: The Phemonemon, in which everyone from the dude from Anthrax to Brad Paisley to Jesse L. Martin to Joss Whedon to Seth Green to S. Epatha Merkerson talks about loving the show. In three parts. Obviously full of spoilers if you've never watched the show. Which you should.

Sunday

It was a beautiful morning to go on a run. Sunny and breezy and 65 degrees. I'm glad I went when I did; the clouds are gathering, and it looks like rain, which I think might foil my plan to take Zuko to the dog park.

On Friday night, my girlfriend and I went out for appetizers and wine and went to see Last Chance Harvey, which made us cry a lot. I just could not stop crying. I think it's because I love Emma Thompson so much and the moment her face even begins to wrinkle in sorrow I can't help but cry along. And all of the scenes related to Dustin Hoffman and his daughter sent me over the edge into serious fall apart land. It was cathartic! I'm glad we saw it.

Yesterday is a semi-blur. In the morning, I gave myself permission to be lazy, and I lay around and watched the previous night's episode of Battlestar Galactica, which was so fantastic I'm still not over it. Eventually I went to Target and spent too much money, as usual. Then I met up with a classmate for coffee and a visit about our projects. It was nice to be able to sit outside on the patio. I made this spinach and tofu recipe in the crockpot sans the tofu. I didn't drain the tofu enough, clearly, because when I tried to follow the instructions and dust it in cornstarch and then stir-fry it a little bit in a skillet to brown it, the cornstarch bonded to the water on the surface of the tofu instead of the tofu itself and slid off and ended up in strange congealed translucent bits swimming in a gelatinous goo that looked like I was stir-frying the wax we used with our childhood braces. Disaster. So I trashed the tofu and added carrots and almonds and it was pretty good. Not great, but edible. I mostly enjoyed the whole grain naan I bought at Target. Last night I stayed in and watched season two of Extras, which was wonderful if highly mortifying, particularly the Ian McKellen episode, the date gone awry with the bathroom ridiculousness, and the office antics involving the naked lady pen.

Which brings us to today. The run was pleasant. I hacked a giant lantana all the way to the ground (it will come back, it always does) and scratched myself up plenty in the process. I contemplated having a St. Patrick's parade party. I also thought back, randomly, to an old tape that a friend copied for me some 15 years ago at camp. All I remembered was that the guy's name was Raccoon and that he had a song about sitting around thinking about the things he likes to think about. A little searching online, and I found him. This is the song I really liked that summer. What can I say, we were in the mountains.

Now I'm drinking Godiva hot chocolate with soy milk even though it's not remotely cold outside and contemplating a nap. Last night was one of those nights when I was awake more than I was asleep, and it's finally hitting me. Luckily I had a good TV show ("Sir Ian, Sir Ian, Sir Ian, Wizard: You shall not pass! Sir Ian, Sir Ian, Sir Ian...") and a good book (I finished A Map of the Known World, which was beautiful and heartbreaking) All the pets are napping, and I don't know why I shouldn't follow their lead.

On this lazy afternoon, I'm thinking that some time soon I'd like to mull over the idea of giving myself permission to be lazy more often. I am lazy a lot, but I always feel guilty about it. I think I'd like to let that go in '09. I am trying to embrace the idea that a little laziness can be a good thing and not something to fret over. More on that later.

Catching up / Cry for help

I forgot to mention that I saw a really good rental recently. It's called The Edge of Heaven. I didn't know much about it going in, but I'm so glad I ended up watching it. It's hard to say too much about it without giving important things away, and I wouldn't recommending reading up on it before seeing it. Just know that it's about Turkey, Germany, a father, a son, a mother, a daughter, lovers, political activism, and other fascinating things. I highly recommend it, and I look forward to checking out another effort by Fatih Akin, the award-winning Head On.

My little brother and I took a road trip to see Slumdog Millionaire yesterday after deciding to go to it if it's not going to come to us. It was totally worth the drive and the time. I strenously avoided details on the film before seeing it because I knew it would be special, and I didn't want to know anything about it going in. That was wise. I was surprised by everything, and I had no idea I'd be so nervously on the edge of my seat the entire time. I don't think I relaxed or let my breath out for a single second. It was so exhilarating and beautiful. We loved it and wished we could stay to watch it all over again.

(The next week ...)

I've now seen Head On, supposedly a very big deal. It was definitely memorable and the performances were strong, but it didn't capture my heart the way The Edge of Heaven did. I was mostly annoyed and disturbed by its leading characters instead of in love with them and rooting for them like I was in the other film. There was a little too much blood and sex for me, ultimately.

Thanks to my friend Erin for linking to a great crockpot recipe site. Yesterday, I made the Moroccan lentil soup. The grocery store did not have garam masala, so I used an Indian spice blend, or vegetable broth, so I used chicken broth. Other than that, I stuck to the recipe, and it was DELICIOUS. It also made enough to feed a small army, so I fed some to B., some to my parents, and a lot to my freezer. I am excited to try out some more of this site's recipes for the rest of winter. 

I haven't really been able to get into River Secrets, my love for Shannon Hale's other Bayern books notwithstanding. Luckily, just I was feeling that gnawing feeling of wanting a good book, a galley arrived from trusty Melissa today called A Map of the Known World. (She reviewed it here.) I just read the first two chapters, and it is wonderful so far.

Why did no one ever hold me down and force me to watch Extras? I have just finished season one, and it is the first thing that has made me laugh out loud in ages. It is just what I needed this week, when feeling a bit gray and melancholy, just like the weather, and I can't wait to get season two. I watched Ricky Gervais on Inside the Actors Studio recently, and he said that Andy is the complete opposite of David Brent, which I don't really believe. I understand Andy is a lot more self-aware than David Brent and is often the one actually noticing other people's awfulness instead of everyone noting it about him, but he's really quite similar to David Brent in that sometimes he is so clueless and embarrassing to watch, especially when begging for a line. I mean, clearly he is not the tosser (am I using that British word correctly? no idea!) David Brent is, but he can still be an idiot. Augh! It's so good. I loved it. And it's great to see Charlotte from Ugly Betty as the dim but well-meaning Maggie. And as with The Office, I love watching the behind the scenes stuff because I cannot help but be charmed by the way that Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant genuinely seem to crack each other up to no end. Maybe it's all a put-on, but I like to believe it's a real friendship and affection in addition to a professional and creative collaboration. I don't want to think about this too much or it might lead me dangerously down the road toward Merchant/Gervais fan fiction or something. But I do like watching them make each other laugh, and it makes me think of how making each other laugh is so important in a friendship. Even when things are really shitty, my friends and I can still make each other laugh. This paragraph is getting lamer and lamer so I'll stop.

I have nothing else to say except a cry for help. I have to buy a new mattress set. I've never bought one before. My bed is a hand-me-down from my older brother that I've had for 15 years and that he had God knows how many years before that. It's heinous, I am sleeping worse than ever, and it's kind of making life suck. If you have a bed that you like a lot or love, can you please leave me a comment and tell me about it? Also please feel free to share any bed shopping tips you might have. Or feel free to tell me not to buy a certain type that you think is bad. I don't know why I am so paralyzed about doing this; I am a grown woman and should be able to go to a store and buy a friggin' mattress set. But I really like testimonials, and I like getting them from people I know (or sort of know) instead of crazy people on Internet review websites. I am not afraid to throw down some cash because I think this is an important investment that could literally and vastly improve my life. Thanks in advance for any guidance you can provide.

SAG Awards recap

SAG Awards! I love this awards show. First of all, I could never recap an awards show like Kymm does, but here I go!

I am glad they chose Victor Garber for this "... and I'm an actor" beginning! I love him. And I also love Phylicia Rashad, and I am always glad to see her. The guy from Ed? Really? I guess this is because he's on a new TBS show. (Lame.) The host from Slumdog Millionaire! Oh, gloriousness. He was so fantastic in the movie! He made Creed smile a lot, which is always important. Jenna Fischer is falling out of her dress. (I love her blog.) Who's cuter than Amy Poehler and Will Arnett? I wonder if Steve Carrell made that up, the little tribute to the Sully the pilot, instead of tooting his own acting history. I like to think so!

Kiefer & Rosario, presenters: Rosario Dawson is so gorgeous I can't really believe it. Kiefer looks the same as ever and will always be Ace "Suck My Fat One You Cheap Dimestore Hood" Merrill to me. Christina Applegate, America Ferrera, Tina Fey, Mary Louise Parker, and Tracy Ullman. I always enjoy Tina Fey's speeches, but it would be nice to spread the love around a bit. And ... Tina Fey. No big surprise considering how popular she seems to be among her peers and how grateful everyone is to her for making such delicious fun of Sarah Palin. Very cute speech.

Dev Patel and Freida Pinto, presenters: They are adorable! My little brother is in love with Freida. I think I might be, too. I love them, and I am particularly sad that he was not nominated for an Oscar because I think he totally deserved to be. They're presenting their film. They are showing a very tense and important scene toward the end of the movie, and I have to say that it's a bit of a big fat spoiler. Oh well.

Kyra Sedgwick and Jon Hamm, presenters: She continues to not age. She is also amazingly tiny. I am not crazy about her bustier-type top, but I like her necklace and her hair. I also like Jon Hamm's hair when it's not all slicked back like it is on Mad Men. It is a shame that Kyra Sedgwick had to be outshined by a man who is more gorgeous than her and basically everyone else in the room, except for maybe Ms. Pinto. Alec Baldwin, Steve Carell, David Duchovny, Jeremy Piven, Tony Shalhoub. Please do not win, Jeremy Piven. This is actually sort of a boring category. My vote would be for Baldwin or Carell, clearly. And ... it's Baldwin! Again, no shock there. Who is that child who just hugged him? Is that Ireland? Surely not. Please tell me it's not his date, though; she looks like an adolescent. Steve Carell's wife didn't even attempt to smile or look happy, and good for her! Be genuine, I like that. 

Evan Rachel Wood, presenter: Her hair is a strange color, but her make-up is much less deranged than in recent months (like here), which pleases me. It is hard to believe little Jessie Sammler is all grown up. She is introducing a Trailblazers Montage. I love a good montage, so we'll see how it goes. I'm not sure how Trailblazery some of these performers actually are -- it's a bit random -- but I always appreciate seeing a clip of the Sharks dancing in West Side Story, so that's cool. How nice to show Corky from Life Goes On and Peter Dinklage back to back. That was a very weird and possibly not very well-thought out montage.

Claire Danes, presenter: Distracting veneers and weird pronunciation of "afloat" and "Wisteria Lane" notwithstanding, she looks gorgeous and I am glad she is now dating the adorable Hugh Dancy instead of the formerly beloved by me but now creepy Billy Crudup. Casts of 30 Rock, Desperate Housewives (really?), Entourage, The Office (yay!), and Weeds. And ... 30 Rock! Well, this is a clean sweep! Honestly, I'm glad they won if for Jack McBrayer alone, and I wish they'd let him give the acceptance speech. Did Jane Krakowski just make an Ally McBeal-skinny joke? Really? Boy. That kind of stank up the room.

Frank Langella and Michael Sheen, presenters: People are applauding madly, which is nice. They're presenting Frost/Nixon, which I haven't seen but would like to soon.

Greg Kinnear, presenter: Supporting female actor nominees ... Amy Adams (love her, haven't seen Doubt), Penelope Cruz (want to see this; also enjoy how she never pretends to enjoy talking to Giuliana Rancic), Viola Davis (always very charming in interviews; looks stunning in that yellow gown!), Taraji P. Henson, and Kate Winslet (beautiful blue dress, bosoms are very ... wow) ... and it's Kate Winslet. Random reaction shot of Diego Luna. Kate Winslet looks beautiful but mildly exhausted. Sorry to harp but either her undergarments or her breasts are truly extraordinary.

Christina Applegate and Taye Diggs, presenters: He is wearing tiny glasses and a bow tie, and she is wearing a pretty green dress with an ugly long necklace. Michael C. Hall, Jon Hamm (WIN), Hugh Laurie, William Shatner, and James Spader. If one of these Boston Legal bozos wins, I will be annoyed. Come on, Hamm! And ... Hugh Laurie. Well, I'm okay with this simply because he seems like a nice person. Christina Hendricks tries to look pleased even though Hamm didn't win; she fails but is still a knockout. Hugh Laurie does give good speeches. Random Michelle Pfeiffer reaction shot!

John Krasinski & Amy Poehler, presenters: Sometimes he tries too hard to be cute and funny in interviews. He should not try so hard, for he is just that way naturally! She looks unfortunately rather orange. Their schtick is actually very good! Shirley MacLaine, in particular, clapping and guffawing, thinks so! Sally Field, Mariska Hargitay, Holly Hunter (doesn't age), Elisabeth Moss (who is awesome but is not exactly a lead, huh?; looks adorable next to new fiance Fred Armison!), and Kyra Sedgwick. And ... Sally Field. Which would be a boring choice, but she is very good on Brothers & Sisters and she looks freaking phenomenal.

Emile Hirsch, Josh Brolin, and James Franco, presenting: I enjoy all of them, though Josh Brolin is way too tan and strikes me as kind of insane. Emile Hirsch is teeny and adorable, and James Franco's suit is weird, but he was so good in Milk and of course as Daniel Desario. That clip certainly doesn't show the wondrousness of Milk. Whatever.

Eric McCormick & Emily Blunt, presenters: Ron Howard just clearly leaned over and asked, "Who is that?" I really like Emily Blunt, but I am not crazy about her stretchy aluminum foily dress. Drama series ensemble ... Boston Legal, The Closer, Dexter, House, and Mad Men (Where are the Mad Men women in that clip? Hello?). I will never understand all the love Boston Legal gets on these awards shows.  And ... Mad Men. No brainer! Obviously. There are so many of them that it's taking forever to get to the stage. Mr. Cooper just patted Sean Penn on the shoulder on his way up! January Jones is lovely but always dresses like a lunatic at these awards shows. Oh, look at the little kids! Poor "Hells bells, Trudy!" -- standing in red next to Joan Holloway, also in red, and paling in comparison as any human would. Pete Campbell is the anti-Pete Campbell tonight, super scruffy. I like it.

Alan Rosenberg looks a bit haggard. Nice shout-outs to the other guilds/unions.

Forest Whitaker, presenting: He has been everywhere this week! Talking about the inauguration nonstop, always eloquently and sincerely. I really like him. Giving the Life Achievement Awards to James Earl Jones. "Oh, people will come, Ray. People will most definitely come." I know lots of people always think of him first as the voice of Darth Vader, but he will always be Terence Mann to me. And Mufasa, of course. That was a very sweet tribute to Paul Newman that he threw in at the end.

Ernest Borgnine, presenter: Female actor, TV movie/miniseries ... Laura Dern (enjoy her), Laura Linney (enjoy her, too), Shirley MacLaine (apparently I enjoy all of these women; she is so good in In Her Shoes if you've not seen it), Phylicia Rashad (I hope she wins because her speeches are terrific), and Susan Sarandon (her tatas are a bit much, I'm sorry, there I said it). And ... Laura Linney. I wonder if Laura Dern's heart swelled before the Linney part. Oh, well. She sure has won a lot of damn awards for this part. Alec Baldwin looks gravely concerned by this. 

Amy Adams & Viola Davis, presenters: They are both beautiful. I have decided I hate Amy's dress. It's a nice color, but it has a very strange ruffle/bow thing on the side that is just butt-ugly. Viola Davis' dress, however, is bright, yellow, and perfect.

Marisa Tomei, presenter: I like her yellow dress, but she looks like she is wearing no makeup, and instead of looking natural and pretty (which she is), she looks like she forgot something and very washed out. Not good, Marisa! You are too good-looking to look this drab. Anyway -- male actor, TV movie/miniseries ... Ralph Feinnes, Paul Giamatti, Kevin Spacey, Kiefer Sutherland, and Tom Wilkinson. And ... Paul Giamatti. Again. He's not there, so moving right along.

Susan Sarandon and her decolletage, presenting the montage of the passed on. She gives a nice, sincere opening. I always wonder what music they will use for this. I am always also surprised to be reminded of deaths I'd forgotten. The applause situation is always a little awkward. Cyd Charisse sure was gorgeous. I'll always remember Beverly Garland as the mom in Where the Red Fern Grows. I guess they will save Heath Ledger for last. Actually, I guess he died last year. So the final spot went to the beautiful Paul Newman.

Kristin Scott Thomas, presenting: She is a very hot lady, but I am not crazy about her blazer and long gold chain. The dude playing a dude disguised as another dude line is getting very old. Come on, awards show writers! Some originality, please. Supporting actor ... Josh Brolin (admittedly very good in Milk), Robert Downey, Jr., Philip Seymour Hoffman, Heath Ledger, and Dev Patel. If Heath Ledger doesn't win, I will eat this iBook. Oh, Dev Patel! I didn't know you were nominated! I love you. Gary Oldman, rather than Christopher Nolan for once, is accepting on his behalf. Which is nice, as these are the SAG Awards and everything. Oh, Heath. Gary Oldman is crying. Also, I forget what Gary Oldman's real accent sounds like because one never hears it. "He was an extraordinary young man with an extraordinary talent and it is wonderful that you have acknowledged that and ... honored that talent tonight." That was rather shy, bumbling, awkward, and sweet.

Taraji P. Henson & Brad Pitt, presenters: Once and for effing all, I wish Brad Pitt would shave off that idiot mustache. That said, she looks amazing and I love her dress, hair, earrings, and every last thing about her look. She can't read the prompter because she needs glasses. They're presenting Benjamin Button, clearly. I sort of want to see this but have avoided it because (a) I know I'd be annoyed by the Katrina factor; (b) it's one million hours long; and (c) I hate thinking about mortality. But my little brother really loved it, which is usually reason enough to see a movie.

Ralph Feinnes, presenter: Female actor, leading role. Anne Hathaway (looking a little thin), Angelina Jolie (ditto), Melissa Leo (Kay Howard 4-eva!), Meryl Streep, and Kate Winslet. And ... Meryl Streep. Who is allegedly shocked and gets a huge hug from someone who must be her daughter, because she looks exactly like her. Everyone is charmed and amused by her spastic, actually possibly real shockedness, even Ralph Feinnes, on whose lips she just planted a giant smooch. Everyone clearly loves Meryl Streep. And why shouldn't they? She is not only an awesome talent, she is very amusing. She has total command of the stage, and they are just eating it up. 

Katie Holmes, presenter (WHATEVER): Okay, I like her hair, make-up, and dress. Damn it! She just said "magnifiss-kent." Nice. Why is she the one presenting one of the biggest awards of the night? This makes no sense to me, and I do not accept it. Sure, she was on Broadway, but this is SAG! For God's sake. I just protest this on every level. Anyway, moving on. Richard Jenkins (YES -- so wonderful in The Visitor, a beautiful film), Frank Langella, Sean Penn (wonderful in Milk and totally there with Robin Wright Penn, which makes me happy), Brad Pitt, and Mickey Rourke. Well, I think this is a gimme for Rourke because everyone seems super psyched about his comeback. And ... it's Sean Penn. WOW! I am truly shocked by this. I wonder if he's thinking, "I am so sure I am getting this award from someone whose greatest on-screen role was Joey Potter." I think he just made a joke about communism. Robin Wright Penn is crying, and I love it. Freida Pinto is moved and glowing. Sean Penn is moved and crying and rambling but who cares.

Anthony Hopkins, presenter: He looks thin and old. I am sorry, it's true. But he sounds strong and sensational. I really want Slumdog's ensemble to win, especially because they were all overlooked in the Oscar nominations. And ... hooray!! Anil Kapoor just tackled Dev Patel, and I will love Irrfan Khan forever as the dad in The Namesake, and Anil Kapoor is breathless and stoked, and I want Dev and Freida to get married and dance the train station dance at their wedding, and Anil is acknowledging the young children in the film and saying "they deserve it ... it is the children who have done it" (and he is so right), and Freida is now saying the kids' names for posterity! Which is so fitting and perfect, and all is right with the world. 

Niceness

This has been a weekend filled with lovely things. Some things haven't been so lovely, mostly involving the heinousness that is standing on a ladder painting ceilings, but I'm going to focus on what's been nice.

My mom and I celebrated her birthday by eating pizza and gelato and watching The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, which I liked more than I thought I would; particularly enjoyable were the girl who played Lucy and the wonderful James McAvoy as Mr. Tumnus. 

This weekend also marked the triumphant return of Friday Night Lights to network television and the first of the final episodes of Battlestar Galactica. I love these shows so much; they make me so happy. I already miss them, knowing BG is nearing the end and FNL is probably not far behind. Yesterday I made my favorite crock pot recipe, and today my mom shared carrot salad and bean soup. I read a book, Schooled by Gordon Korman, that started off annoying but ended up charming me.

Today I went on one of the best runs in recent memory. When you get to leave the house at noon on a sunny, cloudless, blue-skied Sunday in January and it's 65 degrees outside, you are one lucky girl. So the weather played a major part of the pleasantness of today's run, but there were other factors -- the many white pelicans perched on the lakeshore in a huddle -- God, how I love the white pelicans! The little pink and white buds starting to peek out from the bare branches of dozens of Japanese magnolia trees. The ducks taking flight in unison. The breeze. The sight of people walking their dogs, picnicking beside the lake, biking, walking, running. The new earphones which allowed me to actually hear my songs in both ears, which was like running in super surround sound compared to what I'm used to. The way that "You Can't Stop the Beat" came on just when I needed it to. The fact that I didn't worry about a single thing while rounding the lakes. I just thought about how glad I am to have the day off tomorrow and how full my heart feels when thinking about the day after tomorrow. 

Last but not least, running three miles on a gorgeous, perfect day is about a billion times more fun than painting a bathroom ceiling, which I did yesterday and all morning long and which I'm about to have to do some more. It's been months since Gustav, and I could bear the brown spots not a day longer. Painting ceilings ranks in life, I've found, with some of the most dreadful acts a person can do on a beautiful day. Mishaps have been the story of the day ... the roller snapping in two and falling on my head, stepping off the ladder and taking down the shower curtain mid-plummet, drips galore in the bathtub and all over the floor, etc. But at least I had good music to keep me company and all of the windows are thrown up and the fans are running to try to keep the air as fresh as possible. 

My brother just called and wants me to road trip with him tomorrow to see Slumdog Millionaire, which sounds like the best idea I've ever heard. A few nights ago, I went to his house to eat dinner and watch The Dark Knight, which he of course loves immensely as a lifelong Batman fan. I thought it was way too long, but we agreed that Heath Ledger and whoever first decided to slap BBQ sauce and chicken on pizza are both geniuses.

All in all, a mighty fine weekend a few weeks into the new year.

Videotape purge

I have a videotape problem. A while back, I threw out all of the unlabeled tapes in a fit of deciding that life is too short. Which leaves me with a giant laundry basket of videotapes which I am sitting down to inventory as a part of my resolution of Clutter Free in '09. I haven't looked at many of these in years. I can't vouch that what the label says is even what's still on the tapes. If you want any of these, let me know. I am not getting rid of any thirtysomething tapes or tapes with any home video on them. If anyone wants anything, I'll double check that the label's right before sending it out.

(1) Life Goes On: Libby & Drew go out of town - party; Who's the Boss finale; Growing Pains finale; The Wonder Years: Michael & Karen's wedding; Doogie Howser: Wanda's new stepmom; The Cosby Show finale; Quantum Leap finale; A Different World finale; The Wonder Years finale (part).

(2) thirtysomething: Hope's parents' anniversary; Lee & Melissa: Cinderella; Lee meets Melissa's friends; The Diary; Christmas; Beauty & the Beast: 2 episodes.

(3) thirtysomething: Nancy's art class; Second Look; part of "Whatever happens, I do love you, Lee"; Billy proposes; New Year's Eve; Elliot & Catholic Church.

(4) thirtysomething: pilot, inside thirtysomething seminar; parents are coming; housewarming; couples; but not for me.

(5) Rosie: Michael Jordan, Bryant Gumble; Rosie: laughing spasm; Rosie: Barbara Walters; General Hospital: Sonny & Brenda's wedding; Ally McBeal; General Hospital: Sonny & Brenda flashbacks. (This tape is circa 1997.)

(5) Dinosaurs (? Why ?); The Wonder Years: roll teacher's house, first week of high school; Doogie Howser: their first apartment; Quantum Leap (KKK); Another World: R/C in NY, Matt/ Donna in car); Disney afternoon; More Another World; Life Goes On: nude painting; Life Goes On: Jesse's birthday, Becca's new friend, Jesse gets sick, school presentation; Joesph & the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat: behind the scenes; thirtysomething: Melissa & Gary / Hope & Michael's first date flashback; 1/2 of funeral episode

(6) Rosie on Oprah; Daytime Emmy Awards 1997; MTV Movie Awards 1997; Part of Five season finale 1997

(7) Steve & Kayla's wedding -- Melissa, does this belong to you or did you send it to me to keep? Let me know!

(8) 1996 Tony Awards -- this is the one with Rent and I might keep it. Although I'm sure it's all on YouTube. THIS IS PART OF THE PROBLEM, I know!

(9) Rent tape (I bought it for $10 for a tape with a bunch of TV appearances on it made by someone named Paige ... I will probably keep this.)

(10) You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown. (Cartoon -- I will keep this until it comes out on DVD someday. In fact, I think I will put it in right now.)

(11) Chicago -- London, Cabaret -- Donmare Warehouse, Rent -- Yasmin as Maureen, Forbidden Broadway highlights -- okay, Melissa, I am pretty sure this belongs to you and I will send it back to you.

(12) 1998 Tony Awards.

(13) 1992 Bill Clinton inauguration stuff; Life Goes On: Becca & Jesse get horny (I actually wrote this on the label, gross, I blame being in high school); Life Goes On: "His Name Was Jesse": Dial-a-Teacher stuff (local access show I helped host in high school); Class of '96 opening credits; Blossom: Tony meets wife; end of Class of '96; All My Children: Tad's alive; 90210: prom night; Melrose: Jane finds out / Billy & Al; Christian Slater on Arsenio; 2nd 1/2 of China Beach; Melrose: Al kisses Billy 1st time

(14) Four Days tapes from the mid-80s; not sure what's on them but I can't bring myself to throw them away.

(15) Oscars 1998.

(16) thirtysomething: I'm in love with a gynecologist; business as usual; accounts receivable; who's forest is it; nancy's first date; undone.

(17) Singles; Say Anything: Life Goes On: "the non-erasable final show"

(18) Madonna on Oprah; Party of Five: the wedding; Homicide: I-95 killer; Homicide: Thanksgiving; Brandon Tartikoff special; Princess Diana; Maya Angelou

(19) PBS documentary about recording of new King & I soundtrack with Julie Andrews & Lea Salonga; Clueless; Something to Talk About

(20) thirtysomething

(21) More thirtysomething

(22) Rosie: Susan Lucci, Rob Schneider, Alan Jackson, Mary Ann from Gilligan's Island; Life Goes On: The Storybook, Paige/Kenny; Rosie: Heather Locklear, Delroy Lindo; Life Goes On: Jesse/Becca--married? AIDS hospice: Beauty and the Beast: Though Lovers Be Lost

(23) The Real World NY: 1993

(24) My So-Called Life; 1996 Oscars; Party of Five 2nd season finale 1996.

(25) Oscars 1995.

(26) Rosie: 100th show w/ Jeff Bridges, Reba M., Marlo Thomas; Beauty & the Beast (BatB): reporter/Paracelsus (break-up); BatB: punk kids; Rosie: Barry Manilow, Blair U., Cheryl Ladd; Rosie: Elton John, Sarah Ferguson; Life Goes On: the baby's room / time warp; General Hospital: Luke & Laura's 15th anniv.

(27) Series finales: Who's the Boss, Growing Pains, Cosby Show, A Different World, Cheers, Quantum Leap

(28) The Truth about Cats & Dogs, The Birdcage, Tony Awards 1997.

(29) Rent OBC on Rosie 1997, Golden Globes 1997, Friends.

(30) The Wonder Years: Winnie breaks her leg; Wonder Years: more flashbacks (old); China Beach: My Fair Lady songs; Murphy Brown: she names Avery; Love & War -- ew; Some Danielle Steele nonsense; People Choice Awards 1991; news; Cheers -- old -- Diane, Coach

(31) 1997 River Phoenix special

I am tired and have to stop now. If you want any of these, let me know and I'll mail them to you happily. Also, I do realize that there is something very wrong with me.

Bobbing along

I have finished all episodes of Wonderfalls except for "Lying Pig," which my Netflixed DVD would not play for anything despite multiple efforts at cleaning it. Overall, I enjoyed this series immensely. It is quirky and strange and very fun to watch. I'd never seen most of the series regulars before, and they all won me over quickly. I think my favorite casting element of the show, though, was how exciting it was to see familiar faces popping in from episode to episode. I had no idea that Tracie Thoms, who played Joanne in the Rent film, was a regular on this show as the lead's best friend. She was really great on the show, and it was so fun to see her in another role. Each episode features a guest star or two in a key role, and I'm telling you, this show had some of the best guest stars ever. Louise Fletcher (the grandmother in Flowers in the Attic, the piano teacher on Joan of Arcadia, and the Oscar-winning Nurse Ratched from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest!), Rue McClanahan (Blanche Devereaux!), Audrey Wasilewski (the self-righteous neighbor on Big Love, Peggy's self-righteous sister on Mad Men), Glenn Fitzgerald (the awesome Brian on Dirty Sexy Money), Sarah Drew (Hannah on my beloved Everwood, Salvatore's wife on Mad Men), and last but not least, Jewel Staite (Kaylee from Firefly and Serenity) ... the list goes on and on. Not to mention that one of the series regulars is Lee Pace, a.k.a. Ned the piemaker, a.k.a. Michael in Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day. I really recommend this show. It's got several commentary tracks, and my favorite moment on any of them was when the show's creators, the actress who played Jaye, and the actress who played Sharon all burst into joyful song when the opening credits played. It's clear the affection they all still have for the show, and it warmed my heart.

My mom and I went to see The Secret Life of Bees. We both cried. I was surprised that Alicia Keys was one of the strongest actresses in the film -- I thought she was truly fantastic -- and Dakota Fanning is just an awesome actress. There, I said it. It was nice to see the movie with my mom, as the book meant a lot to both of us when we first read it and we really bonded over it.

Lately I have been sort of hating my house. It's dusty, crawling with pet hair tumbleweeds, and I've decided I loathe all of my furniture, wall colors, and bedding. Basically ... everything about it. I bought my couch from the couple who used to live next-door on the day I moved in because they were having a garage sale and it seemed quite convenient. But it's quite ugly, who are we kidding? I went on a really red rampage a few years back which resulted in red dining room walls, red chairs, red throw pillows, red lamps, red red red. I am really over the red. And now I'm not sure what possessed me to paint my kitchen the color of an avocado or my hall bright orange. I have one bedroom that is basically a blank slate ... the only thing in it is a twin bed (with bedding I hate, of course) and I'd really like to build a really cute room entirely from scratch. Oh, and it has a cute rug.

That rug is basically the only thing in my house (other than my rainbow bookcase) that I like right now. None of it hangs together. It's very dissatisfying.

Honestly I don't know where to begin. Paging AB Chao ...

Recipe for a nice Friday evening ... Thai take-out, the season two season finale of Mad Men, the Halloween episode of The Office, and pumpkin pecan quick bread with vanilla ice cream.

Bursting me wide open

Recently I popped in a rental DVD and the previews before the movie came on. I wasn't really paying attention but then I saw this.

Of course I had heard that Billy Elliot was being made into a musical. But I hadn't really followed it and didn't realize it was opening on Broadway this fall.

Every few years, there's a new musical with which I become obsessed, and I count the days until I can get to New York to see it. I am already so in love with this musical. I have long been in love with the movie. (Note: clearly I was feeling a bit fragile about being single when writing that entry.) I think it looks so wonderful. I cannot wait to see it.

I bought the soundtrack today and listened to it my car. I got a little teary during the opening song, a little tearier during "Expressing Yourself," and was fully weeping by the time "The Letter" played. Mainly because the musical people were smart enough to basically use an exact transcription of the dialogue from that scene as the song's lyrics. I love this movie so much, and I already love this music so much.

Speaking of things to love that I didn't know about: I didn't know a new My So-Called Life box set came out last fall. How did I miss this? I was once so immersed in the MSCL world. I knew everything there was to know about everything about it. I've written a little about my relationship with this show before; I feel like somewhat of a disloyal fan for not celebrating the release of this set. I skipped the first five discs on Netflix and went straight to disc six, which is full of bonus features. Soon I'll go back and listen to the episode commentaries. This is very exciting to me.

THIS MUSIC IS KILLING ME. If you haven't seen this movie, do yourself a favor and rent it tonight. Turn on the subtitles if you can't understand the accents. It's so worth watching.

Monday update

Another weekend, another Monday.

On Friday evening, we went out for pad Thai and spring rolls and frozen yogurt. On Saturday, I have no idea what I did. Seriously. How can I forget so quickly? I stopped by an estate sale and browsed. I went to the bookstore and bought a textbook. I went to the dog park with Zuko, who might be dumb and a pain in the butt a lot of the time but is a great dog park dog. He doesn't bother anyone, he doesn't scare the nervous dogs, he doesn't participate in the big group scuffles, and he just runs around a pees on everything he passes. I visited with the fiancée of one of B.'s school friends. I like both of them a lot, I like their dogs, and I'd like to get to know them better. I met B. later that afternoon for a quick lemonade at the coffee shop.

I spent much of the rest of the afternoon shopping for and preparing this salad. Don't bother making this salad if you don't have a strong affinity for chopping. There is lots of chopping involved. I didn't make anywhere near the whole recipe and it still made about a million servings. I am already sort of sick of it, but we will be eating it for many days to come. The best things about this salad are (a) the dressing and (b) the fact that it's really pretty to look at. It tastes great, but it might not be balanced in the effort/enjoyment ratio (at least for me, but then I'm sort of lazy). If you can get someone to make it FOR you, that's the way to go. I followed the recipe pretty closely as far as ingredients except I didn't use nuts (B. doesn't like cashews and I forgot to get a substitute) or bean sprouts (they were rotting in their container at the store, gross) and I used whole wheat linguine. Overall: thumbs up but kind of a PITA to make.

On Sunday, it rained the entire day, and I spent much of the day lying around. I attempted to go running on the treadmill, but that didn't go well, so I took to the couch and watched hours upon hours of one of my all-time favorite TV shows, the first two seasons of which have been placed on YouTube in their entirety by various people who must have coordinated their efforts somehow. How happy this makes me I can't even really tell you. I am loath to post the links because I think the longer they are shrouded in secrecy the longer they will remain online before being pulled. Here's a hint: this show ran for four seasons. A lot of people loved it, but a lot of people hated it. It hasn't been released on DVD. It has seven core characters. It rhymes with "dirtysomething."

It's still so, so, so good. Now that I am actually the characters' ages instead of half that (as I was when it was on the air), I see it with whole new eyes, and I don't know that I ever saw myself as the Melissa or the Ellyn of the group even though that's who I am. In the pilot, Melissa is 31. 31! Stop, I can't even think about it. Sometimes I don't enjoy some of the fantasy stuff, but it turns out that I still adore the episode about the couple who used to live in Hope and Michael's house and the WWII scenes about their life. I first heard of "Stardust," of course, in Taking Care of Terrific when Hawk plays it during the secret midnight Swan Boat ride, but I never heard it until seeing this episode all those years ago. And it has remained one of my favorite songs in life ever since, especially when sung by Harry Connick, Jr. or Nat King Cole. Anyway. Just like I always have, I cried during this episode.

I also cried when Michael walked in, face crumpling when he saw that Melissa had brought the menorah. (Their fight during that episode = still awesome. Another awesome fight = Michael and Elliot in the office after they lose the business.) I cried when Melissa and Gary talked about how together, they brought up a couple of kids. I cried when Elliot sat at Ethan's bedside, post-rocket accident, apologizing. I cried when Nancy said, "It's just something about the way his mind works." As hard as I try, I still cannot like Susannah. It was great to watch the very beginning of the Miles Drentell saga, knowing now just how long it will last. I've cried so much just watching these episodes that I don't think I'm fully prepared for what comes next. Everyone remembers seasons three and four -- the cancer and the death and the major stuff, with "Second Look" in season four as the sort of emotional climax of the entire series. But seasons one and two are also really good. I don't know what to say except that I love this show and apparently always will. I am going to look back and find my 30-page paper on the evolution of Nancy Krieger Weston. I remain oddly proud of that paper.

Also this weekend: I finished Pilgrims by Elizabeth Gilbert, which I really liked. I liked every single story. I feel like people roll their eyes at Eat, Pray, Love now, but I loved that book, and I think she's a really good fiction writer. I also started Watchmen, a gift from B. As usual with this sort of graphic novel, I have no idea what's going on as I start it, but I'm hoping all will become clear.

In searching through files which contain my high school and college papers for that damn Nancy paper, I just found a "pre-test" I wrote for English III on August 20, 1991. The assignment was to write about a book we read over the summer. Mine was called "Meg's Brave Fight" and was all about the life-or-death decisions Meg Powers had to make in Ellen Emerson White's Long Live the Queen. A book I just re-read last week at age 33. I had no memory of writing this paper almost 17 years ago to the day, but reading it again makes me unspeakably happy. Being a packrat is not always a bad thing. And now I am awash in memories. I just spent the past few hours looking through old floppy discs -- is that what you call them? the little square ones? -- on my old desktop for papers saved during college on my parents' computer, and I found a ton of old papers, but not the Nancy one. I DID find the notebook in which I wrote pages and pages of notes while watching the Nancy-centric episodes which I analyzed in my paper. And an analysis for yet another English class on how James Joyce's "The Dead" was the inspiration for an episode of this show. Which it was. The professor wrote in her margin comments, "I remember that episode!" It's the tie that binds, apparently.

I spotted files in my filing cabinet with the following labels: First Apartment Mementos, Mail Received at Camp, Ally McBeal, River Phoenix, 20th Birthday Cards, Chicago Hope, and Homicide: Life on the Streets Drinking Game. It might be time to cull some of these files. GOOD LORD.

In other thoughts, I really enjoyed reading this columm, namely because its author is smart enough to know that Tiger Eyes is the best book Judy Blume ever wrote.

Yoga

The truth is that when it comes to utilitarian/authoritarian/no nonsense yoga teachers vs. hippy/dippy/sunlight & moonbeams yoga teachers, I've decided I prefer the latter. Truly! If I'm going to be focusing on shakras, I'd rather be hearing about them from someone who talks about opening our hearts to compassion and love and how the light within her honors the light within all of us and all that jazz because it all just gets me way more into the mood. I still can't do many of the poses but it was nice last night to meet a tiny yoga man next to me who encouraged me and said that yoga comes back to you quickly. Yes, I thought, but only if one was there in the first place. Anyway, I'm sore but feel great after the class. I just collapsed into child's pose as the class held downward dog for five hundred years and then started lifting their legs into the air one at a time and then pulling them to their chests because I just could not hold those poses for that long. But other than that, I pulled most things off, including coming nose to nose with the tiny yoga man in prayer squat (close quarters; crowded class), which was semi-awkward. I was trying to breathe and balance and not fall over and there he was a centimeter from my face, hi. I averted my eyes and prayed while squatting for it to be over soon.

Meanwhile, I have come to terms with the fact that I think I have now seen every single episode of Reba.

Weekend

It's been a busy weekend and a fun one. It is very strange to spend a weekend with B. when neither of us has any schoolwork to do. Holla!

Last night, we went to a happy hour with some of my school friends, and then visited for a while with some of his. We've been watching lots and lots of Mad Men and somehow it is never enough. This morning, I went on a two-mile run and to have iced coffee with my brother's ex-girlfriend, whom I love and adore. We visited on the patio with her dog, whom I also love and adore. It was very nice. B. and I went to lunch where I had a veggie sandwich, inspired by my coffee date who told me she's gone vegan, and then we went to Target, where I forgot about my new vegan plan and bought a half-pound of honey roasted turkey from the deli. Whoops! We ended up helping a stranger jump her dead battery because that is just what you do to help your fellow human beings even when you are all melting into the asphalt of the Target parking lot.

Tonight I went to the home of my old friend who is moving away to go to grad school for writing. Does anyone want to buy a REALLY CUTE house? If so, let me know and I can hook you up! She made amazing Indian food ... naan and spinach/potatoes and eggplant and chicken curry and there was also chicken mole and it was all so delicious that I started sweating. I will miss my friend but know we will keep in touch. I know she is destined for great things. She is one of the few people I know who is actually taking the chance to do what she knows she was born to do. Who does that? Nobody, it seems. It is a beautiful thing.

Anyway, veganism. My very healthy and fit friend / semi-sister-in-law insists that she gets lots of protein from protein-rich bread and pasta and beans and things of that nature but I'm not sure I could pull it off. But Lord knows I don't really get excited about meat and could do without it. I'm just not sure about the cheese part. And I'm trying really hard not to eat food that is not really food, and it seems like vegans rely a lot on frozen organic vegan burritos and Morningstar and Boca and I'm just not sure how I feel about those foods anymore. Conflicted!

I don't know what else to say. I'm so burned out from my 60-book summer that I can't bring myself to read anything. I started Black Swan Green but can't get into it despite the fact that B. tells me he knows I'd love it. Funny story (at least to me): At my friend's house tonight, a couple of people were talking about a horrible book that one of their book club members insisted they read and how everyone in the group hated it so much that they demanded that the group leader veto the book before they had to finish it and discuss it. I asked what the book was and it was The Brothers K! As in my beloved book. I said, "I give that book as a gift!" Then I thought for a second and said to my friend who was hosting the party and is moving away, "Wait, I think I gave that book to YOU!" And she laughed and said that I did. I understand that it's a tough start and takes a while to get into, and I tried to tell them that, but I didn't go into my usual hard-sell freak mode ... I told them I understand why some people wouldn't like it and that I respect their opinion because I really do. I didn't tell them that their lives will be better and their souls richer for reading it, even though I believe that. I am trying to tone down my maniacal evangelism when it comes to things, especially when it's something that someone has already read 80 pages of and loathes with his entire being.

More tomorrow.

Catching up

I guess it's been a while since I updated this here website. It's been a busy summer! In the past month or so, I've been immersed in schoolwork, at a conference for work, reunited with my boyfriend, and trying to live like a healthier human being. There is truly not much news to report. I will talk about miscellaneous things now in no special order.

I'm still watching So You Think You Can Dance. I watched most of season one of Mad Men in one sitting while waiting to pick B. up at the airport, and holy wow. It's so good. It's slooooooow and deliberate and just a fine program. I can see myself becoming obsessed with it; I sort of already am. I saw Mamma Mia! and liked it but did not love it. It was so over the top and cheesetastic, but I loved most of the singing and dancing numbers, Amanda Seyfried was luminous, Meryl Streep can do anything, and the dads were all quite good even though Pierce Brosnan has the worst singing voice every committed to screen. I even liked Sophie's boyfriend even though I loathed him as Willoughby in a recent Masterpiece Theater Sense and Sensibility. It was a sweet, fun summer movie but certainly not a great movie musical.

The Avett Brothers' new album, Gleam II, is out, and it is wonderful.

I am officially addicted to Turbo Jam: Punch, Kick, and Jam. I first learned about it from Linda and figured I'd give it a try because I was feeling so adrift when it came to my health. I was lost at first but now could do it in my sleep. Not that it's easy to do; it's just easy to follow once you know the moves, and I like that each move can be taken to more difficult levels the more you know what you're doing. I've also started trying Hip Hop Abs, but I fear it is way too dance-y for me (no rhythm), and it also makes my stomach hurt so badly that it makes me think I am going to throw up in a projectile manner mid-"Tilt, Tuck, and Tighten." I went to yoga with my dad recently, and I love yoga in theory, but I wonder what is wrong with my wrists that causes any pose that involves my lifting my body on them to make me feel like they are going to splinter into pieces. I am up to running two miles again but haven't tried to push past that point yet. Anyway, fitness. I've spent a lot of my summer trying to get back into the exercise routine, and while there have been no dramatic changes body-wise, it feels good to be doing something good for myself.

When I haven't been making time for exercise, I've been doing homework for my class. It's consumed much of my summer. I read sixty graphic novels and did a whole lot of work related to them and to graphic novel collections in general (annotating and reviewing the books, evaluating a collection, coming up with a collection development policy, coming up with a library program for them, writing a research paper, etc.). It's been exhausting and ridiculous. I need to sit down and make a top ten list of the best books I read this summer. I'm doing my research paper on Alison Bechdel based on my undying love for Fun Home, and I can't wait to get it turned in and put this class behind me. I'm glad I took it because of some of the excellent books it brought into my life but -- hate to be a negative nellie here -- overall, it was kind of a drag.

My four favorites I actually read before class started so I'm not including them in the list (The Complete Maus by Art Spiegelman, Fun Home by Alison Bechdel, Jimmy Corrigan: The Smartest Kid on Earth by Chris Ware, and Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi). Here's the top ten in no particular order along with excerpts/snippets of the reviews I had to write for class this summer.

(1) The Tale of One Bad Rat by Bryan Talbot. This the tale of one young woman's quest to survive the wounds of being abused by her father as a child. Helen is both terrified and brave, both scarred and healing, and both enslaved by her past and striving to break free. The plot follows her from her days as a homeless young girl in a cold London winter after running away from home to her odyssey through England's Lake District, the home of her hero, Beatrix Potter, as she finds a new family and ultimately confronts and disentangles herself from her abusive father. The color illustrations are simply beautiful – they capture Helen's transformation wonderfully and depict the outside world with highly detailed attention, from the streets, buildings, and bridges of London to the spectacular countryside of the Lake District (which I visited four summers ago and still miss in my heart). The purpose of the book is to portray, through the life of one girl, the idea that abuse is survivable, that a person can overcome his or her darkest and deepest pain, and that people are stronger than they think they are. It is very effectively achieved, particularly in a scene in which Helen stands alone atop a hill overlooking Lake Derwentwater, crying and shaking her fists at the sky, proclaiming that her abuse was not her fault, and also in the scene in which she fearlessly stands up to her father.

(2) Sandman: Preludes & Nocturnes by Neil Gaiman. I did NOT understand this book at first and wanted to stab it with a knife or throw it into a fire. Then I started to understand what was going on and really dug it! The plot follows Dream as he escapes from his longtime prison cell and embarks on a quest to find the items that give him his power – his pouch, his helmet, and his ruby. Though initially hard to follow, the storyline clicks into place once Dream gets going on the different legs of his journey. Much of the artwork is grotesque and terrifying, and it does a good job of showing Dream's power as well as his humanity (as it were). The book has important things to say about fundamental ideas about life and death, like when Dream asks a demon who taunts him that dreams have no power in hell, "What power would hell have if those imprisoned here were not able to dream of heaven?" The idea that heaven and hell, dreams and nightmares, and life and death are inextricably intertwined is the predominant one in this novel.

(3) The Walking Dead: Volume One by Robert Kirkman. The plot follows Rick, a police officer, as he awakens from a coma to find the world around him irrevocably changed … it's human vs. zombie now, and he must find a way to survive against all odds. The realistic writing style aptly captures the excitement, the fear, the suspense, and the heartache. The excellent black and white pen and ink illustrations convey the terror and emotion of the story with intimate, intricate detail. This book reminds me of Carmac McCarthy's The Road in the way it portrays the desperation and desolation of man vs. the near-apocalypse. It could be used as an accompaniment to The Road in that they both focus on surviving with loved ones in a forever changed and terrifying world. This book is a unique and devastatingly moving twist on the traditional zombie genre with its focus on love, family, emotions, and the ties that bind – particularly touching is the scene when the characters sit around the campfire in the snow sharing what they used to do in their "past lives."

(4) The Rabbi's Cat by Joann Sfar. The cat as narrator is snarky, inquisitive, and wise, and his master, the rabbi, is insecure but likeable and grounded in his faith. The plot follows the cat through a temporary spell when he's able to speak after swallowing the family bird and as he accompanies his master through his daughter's marriage and to Paris, where they visit the new in-laws. The purpose of the book seems to be a spiritual exploration – what is a Jew, really, and what is a non-Jew? What traits do they share? How are they different? It's about coming to terms with one's faith or lack thereof or finding peace with some combination of faith and non-faith. It's also about coming to understand one's place in his or her family and in the world (human or feline). A beautiful and thought-provoking book.

(5) Heavy Liquid by Paul Pope. This is a futuristic look at crime and romance through the eyes of S., a former lawman who's turned to the dark side. S. is a dashing cross between Mick Jagger and Benicio del Toro who's a slave to heavy liquid, a chrome-like substance that melts into a dark milk that he pours into his ear for a high. The plot takes him on a lonely journey in the mid-22nd century as he embarks on a search for a lost love in order to fulfill an assignment for a powerful art dealer. This is a compelling and unusual story with haunting illustrations.

(6) Serenity: Those Left Behind by Joss Whedon & Brett Matthews. The diverse characters of this book are the motley crew aboard the Serenity – two soldiers, a pilot, a doctor, a mechanic, a preacher, a courtesan, and a possibly insane young woman – for their own reasons, all boiling down to a shared mission – to rob and steal in order to survive. The writing style is true to the origins of this mythology – the characters speak in a strange, convoluted syntax with a Western flavor that suits the singular atmosphere of this world perfectly. It's Whedon at his best, writing with a cinematic rhythm where all the beats, comedic and dramatic, hit in all the right places. The illustrations are dazzlingly beautiful, from the exploding light of Serenity's flight through space to the fraught emotions lined in the character's faces. The art does an amazing job of bringing this world previously created onscreen to life on the page, and seeing these iconic characters rendered so carefully and lovingly will thrill preexisting fans. The purpose of the book is to continue the story of this ragtag fleet for both fans of the TV show/movie (known as Browncoats) and to begin the story for comics fans previously unfamiliar with it – while familiarity deepens the reading experience, it's not necessary – it's funny, dramatic, complex, and exciting. Its intended audience is young adults, who will enjoy the adventure, the romantic undertones between several characters, the fights, and the whole space cowboy ideology. The many adult Browncoats will also adore this book.

(7) Paul Has a Summer Job by Paul Rabagliati. Paul, like Thoreau and countless others before him, chooses to lose the trappings of real life and go to the woods in order to find himself. He drops out of school and starts and quits a mindless job he hates before deciding on a whim to spend the summer in the woods as a camp counselor, where he evolves, to his initial surprise, into the Paul he really is deep down and the Paul he wants to be. The black and white pen and ink illustrations wonderfully capture the natural setting of the woods – the trees, the hills, the lake, the wildlife – and the personalities of Paul, his fellow counselors, and the young campers. The book's purpose is to take a look back at a defining moment in the history of Paul's life and how his summer as a camp counselor indelibly changed him, and it is achieved very effectively with heartfelt nostalgia and affection towards his old friends and experiences at camp. Readers who have spent a summer at camp, whether as a camper or counselor, will recognize themselves in these characters – the sacred, special, hilarious times at camp and the bonds formed between those who were there become frozen in one's memory and heart, and this book captures that sentiment beautifully. (Paul, sitting around a campfire, singing under the stars: "There you are, in the middle of nowhere, with a group of people you like, and suddenly, you lift off. Without noticing it, you're in a bubble. You become one with the world around you, and everything else just fades away.")

(8) One! Hundred! Demons! by Lynda Barry. THIS IS A WONDERFUL BOOK. This is the sort of book that makes a person want to sing from the mountaintops about the glories of autobiography and the lessons learned from one's own childhood and life. The plot is an episodic series of anecdotes about Barry from early childhood to adulthood. The purpose is to take a walk down memory lane by recreating Barry's experiences in a way that everyone can relate to on some level – we have had pain in our childhoods, we have felt out of place, we have loved and lost people and pets and beloved childhood blankets and stuffed animals, we have taken drugs and kissed people we shouldn't have, we have tried to create art that means something to us, and we have been insanely glued to the TV during the 2000 chad-related presidential election drama. All of us have done these things in whole or in part, and Barry has an amazing gift for tapping into the experiences that make us all human both collectively and individually. (As a chronic shame spiraler, this book was such a great read for me. It's a book all about shame spiraling and rising above. It is just awesome.)

(9) Kings in Disguise by James Vance. A young boy named Freddie struggles to survive the Great Depression and travels by railcar to Detroit in search of his father. A beautiful slice of America during one of its darkest times; showcases the inherent dignity of the human spirit -- even the poorest can be kings at heart. Sounds cheesy; is not.

(10) Runaways: Volume One by Brian K. Vaughan. This is a story about teen superheroes. The plot follows the members of the group, who are initially only friends because their parents are, as they discover their parents' nefarious ways and instantly band together in a newfound brotherhood/sisterhood … there are hints of romance as well as deception, as one of the teens might still be on the parents' side. The writing style is very modern and hip and peppered with allusions to real-life pop culture references – "You okay? You're acting all Keanu," "Okay, this is starting to get a little Eyes Wide Shut," "Wow, it's like a whole season of Antiques Roadshow in here," "Get out! That is so C.S.I.," and "You've been watching too many WB shows, bro," are just a few examples of these references that make the reader feel like these characters and their adventures really exist in the same world that the reader inhabits. The illustrations are true-to-life and do a wonderful job of conveying the wardrobes, hairstyles, accessories, etc. of the characters. The writing makes these teens sound like real teens; the art makes them look like real teens.

I guess I should say a little more about my all-time favorites.

Jimmy Corrigan. For the inexperienced graphic novel reader, starting this book is like leaping off the high diving board before learning to swim. The plot moves through time without clear transitions; generations and histories fold in and out of each other, and the reader must go with the flow rather than fight the current so that initial confusion dissipates, scales are shaken from the reader's eyes, and all becomes clear. The book's purpose is to explore wounds that fathers inflict on sons and the resulting scars carried for a lifetime and down into the next generation -- it's not only about fathers and sons, though – it is about loneliness and abandonment, the death of the spirit, and the salvation found in the tiniest moment's kindness.

Maus. The plot of this book weaves in and out of time as Vladek shares with his son Art his story of life before, during, and after the Holocaust. People are drawn as anthropomorphized animals (Jews as mice, Germans as cats, and Poles as pigs) who behave like human beings at their best and worst. Spiegelman set out to tell a Holocaust story but was also dealing with his heritage and working through the horrors and heroism of his parents' experience. Calling Maus "effective" is the understatement of the century. It is a book that cries out to be shared because of the lessons it teaches and the unique way it both breaks and uplifts the reader's heart. Its unforgettable power and singular place in both literary history and world history make it an essential read for all of humanity, if you're asking me.

Persepolis. I feel like most people are familiar with this book so I'm not going to say anything about it. It's really good, and you should read it. The End.

Fun Home. The plot primarily traces Bechdel's relationship with her father and how who he was shaped her into being who she is (and is not). It's sardonically funny and poetic, packing hard punches and eliciting gasps, sighs, chills, laughter, and tears from the reader – "Dad and I watched the sunset. It was beautiful. My father once came to blows with a female dinner guest about whether a particularly patch of embroidery was fuchsia or magenta. But the infinite gradations of color in a fine sunset – from salmon to canary to midnight blue – left him speechless." The art is black, white, and pale greenish gray, a color scheme that seems appropriate for the evoking of memory, and it incorporates realistic depictions of characters with pieces of memory, such as photographs and childhood diary entries. The book's purpose is to present Bechdel's upbringing through the lens of how she saw herself and her father in her childhood and perhaps for her to come to grips with his life and death. I've read three graphic novels so far in my lifetime that I consider masterpieces. Maus stands alone at the top of that list, but this (and Jimmy Corrigan) come closely behind it. This is not simply a great graphic work – it is a great work, period. It is a staggering achievement, and I will never forget it. Without question, it is an essential purchase for every public library on planet earth.

And ... I guess that's it for now.

Catching up

How can it already be Thursday? Flashing back ... I enjoyed my weekend. On Friday night, I watched the amazing mid-season finale of Battlestar Galactica. I woke up early on Saturday morning, went to the library, where let's face it I am going practically every day these days, and headed to the gym. I planned to walk briskly on the treadmill in my first visit there in eons, but after a five-minute warm-up I decided to try to run for a couple of minutes. And I ran for a little over a mile! It killed me, but I just kept going and told myself to suck it up. Then I walked some more. It was a great work-out, and I felt so proud of myself to know that I am still capable of running (slowly) and might even possibly be able to build up to several miles again. It was the best feeling I've had in a long time.

Then I went to the produce market and stocked up on butternut squash, acorn squash, little red potatoes, sweet potatoes, carrots, broccoli, brussel sprouts, onions, garlic, oranges, apples, bananas, green beans, whole almonds, and probably some other stuff that I'm forgetting! I know I need to eat more protein, and I'm going to work on that. I spent the next seven hours or so working on school work either at the coffee shop or at home, and then I headed to a different coffee shop for a game of Scrabble with a girlfriend. I tried to steam some green beans for dinner, but I let it go too long, the water all boiled away, and the bottom of the pan turned into a bubbly black mess. The green beans clearly did not taste very good. Oh, well.

On Sunday morning, it was time for brunch with the family. My brothers, parents, and I all loaded into one car and headed about 20 miles down river to the restaurant where B. and I ate a few weekends ago. We had a nice visit if you count all crying at a letter my dad wrote and read aloud about being a father as a nice visit, which I definitely do. (Of course my sister was very missed.) After brunch, I headed back to the gym to do the weight machines. When I logged in, the screen flashed ALERT! CAUTION! to warn me that I hadn't logged in for more than a year and a half. Nice. I did one set of 10 reps on each machine and it took every ounce of determination and strength in my body to make that happen. My muscles were quivering and my teeth were clenched and I still feel like I've been beaten about the arms and legs with a baseball bat. But I'm going to try to keep at it.

The rest of this week is blur of work and homework ... I've started referring to my graphic novels class in my head as The Class that Ate Summer '08. It's an unholy amount of work, and I'm just trying to keep up. Favorite new reads: The Walking Dead by Robert Kirkman (a zombie story with heart) and Astonishing X-Men by Joss Whedon (just because it's Joss) and Runaways by Brian Vaughan and Amelia Rules! The Whole World's Gone Crazy by Jimmy Gownley -- it was just really sweet and funny. I actually got up at six in the morning yesterday to Turbo Jam, which was unheard of, and I felt pretty great about it. I still don't have all the moves, but I think I'm getting a little better. I am slightly uncomfortable every time the teacher says, "Do you feel that? I know you feel that," but I laugh every time she instructs to "Make that W!" (with your arms) "...because you're a WINNER!" She is so upbeat it is unreal. But I like her, mostly. I am waiting to get the weighted gloves in the mail, so we'll see how that goes! I find that sometimes in bed at night I still hear echoes of the Turbo Jam music, like I used to do with the Super Mario Bros. 3 music as a kid, sort of like the way the bed rocks after you've spent the day on a boat. Last night I was lulled to sleep by the beat of "bump and grind, bump-bump and grind."

Last night I made a stir fry for dinner -- in olive oil, I cooked up red, green, and yellow bell peppers, tofu, almonds, broccoli, and carrots and ate it over a little whole wheat pasta. Yum! Overall, I am really trying to embrace this whole healthy routine and find that I am not even craving junk food because I am not nearly killing myself taking almost 400 stairs every morning just to squander that fitness on a goddamn Reese's peanut butter cup, you know?

I guess that's about it for now. I can't get my camera to turn on, and I miss taking pictures. It might be time for a new little pocket camera or time to buy a DSLR. I can't decide. So I just take blurry pictures with the iPhone and call it a day.

Meanwhile, I continue to love So You Think You Can Dance beyond reason and cannot understand why everyone in America doesn't start watching this show.

Catch up

Last week, my mom called to announced that there was a Camelot special on PBS. Of course I turned it on right away, and behold, there was Live from Lincoln Center: Camelot. I could not believe my bloomin' eyes. Marin Mazzie as Guinevere? LORD. Perfect. I've loved her since 1998, when she created the role of Mother in Ragtime (even though I never saw her in it, I feel like I have, you know?), and seeing her in Kiss Me, Kate was something I'll never forget. I thought she made a fine, fine Guinevere.

Anyway, I'd never seen the guy who played Lancelot before, but I understand he's an opera star and I was pleased to see that he had both comedic and dramatic chops as well as a great voice. Christopher Lloyd as Pellinore? Too good. I have no idea who Mordred was, but he was great. And Gabriel Byrne as Arthur was wonderful. Sure, he spoke through many of the songs, but that is what Arthur does, since it's not a singing part and it never has been. (Hello, Richard Burton.) And sometimes he rushed and didn't speak the words with the proper musical timing. But you know what? I didn't care. He made me cry so hard during the "Proposition" scene that B. could hear me from the next room even though I was sitting on the bed in the dark with the door closed. It was wonderful, wonderful, wonderful to see this show that I have loved so much my whole life reinvented in this wonderful way.

Of course I called my parents crying during the show to tell them it was the best thing I'd ever seen, and a few nights later, while B. and I were over at my parents' house visiting my sister who was in town, my dad busted out his Camelot script from his college production (he played Arthur) and performed the "Proposition" scene for us, stopping to explain how the notes from "I Wonder What the King is Doing Tonight" play in the background and so forth, and it was a beautiful, beautiful thing.

On Saturday, I was running around buying gifts, and I stopped at the Catholic bookstore to buy my dad a gift certificate and next-door I spotted a Mexican bakery. At least it looked like a Mexican bakery. Seeing as I don't speak Spanish, I wasn't sure. But I was so hungry that I ran and not walked inside. I was not really sure what to do, procedurally. This was definitely a Mexican-Mexican bakery and not an American-Mexican bakery. Should I order at the counter even though I could not translate any of the menu items on the wall? Should I stand at the large rack of unlabeled baked goods and inspect them carefully until someone came over to take my order? I did the latter, and the friendly counter guy asked me what I would like. I pointed to a big pastry and said, "I'd like one, please." He said, "It's chicken!" Because I think he thought I thought it was dessert. I said, "Great!" He told me, "Americans always taste that one and come back for more." $2.65 later, I walked outside, got into my car, and tore into it. It was so good I moaned. I ate the whole thing with my hands, while driving. And it wasn't small. I took my sister back the next morning, thinking she might want to speak some Spanish. She explained that if she were in Mexico, sure, but that the general consensus among bilingual types and those trying to be so is that as Mexicans operating a restaurant here, they might not want to be used for us to practice Spanish on, but rather might want to use us to practice English on. Which made sense, I think. So they spoke a little Spanish and a little English and all was merry and gay. We loaded up on stuff and it is now my favorite food establishment. They've only been open a month; I hope they're a wild success.

Spending some time with my sister when she was here was nice. We went shoe shopping, which is not either of our things, but we survived. Mother's Day was good. We also celebrated my dad's birthday, and my mom cooked an awesome meal of crawfish etouffee, broccoli casserole, and of course ice cream dessert. It was nice to have the whole family together, plus fiery B. I forced everyone to jump in the air for pictures because I read that it's a good way to spice up a group photo. I feel everyone was slightly annoyed, but these pictures will make me laugh forever.

My mom, sister, and I watched P.S. I Love You, and I'm not sure I have the words to aptly capture how much we hated this movie. Just when we thought it couldn't get any stupider or more unrealistic, it would. IT WAS BAD. I am still kind of in shock that it ever got made. I think we started hating it immediately when Hilary Swank's character complained about how small their apartment was and it was a big, lovely NY walk-up that was bigger than any apartment my NY friend ever lived in. I also hated: her fancy up-do for her husband's funeral [not really a spoiler; his death is basically the premise of the whole movie] and the way she went to bed after it in the most uncomfortable type of bra possible (corset) and sexy black panties. Who dresses like that for her husband's funeral? I hated ... everything about it. EVERYTHING. Except for the beauty of the Irish countryside. That was the only good thing about it. What a slog of a movie ... the worst I've seen in years. Possibly in my whole life.

Don't know what else to say. So ... pictures.

Fun Home

Boy howdy, but I've read some good books lately. First there was The Story of Forgetting, which I've already mentioned. And I just finished Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic by Alison Bechdel. Which I have to sincerely thank Leenie for recommending in a comments thread. It was -- wow. I don't even know where to start. It might be the best memoir I've ever read.

The way that Bechdel writes (and draws) the story of her childhood and the story of her family knocked my socks off. I felt my heart tightening the entire time with a sense of identification, not because my family or my life are anything like hers in any specific sense, but because she's that great kind of a writer that makes you feel that connection -- that intangible something that makes human beings feel connected to each other no matter how different they are. It gave me that feeling of I Am Nothing Like You, But I Am Just Like You, and How Did You Know How I Feel? And in addition to that nagging, longing feeling of identification and yes, yes, I understand this, the drawing and the words and how it all tied together between past and present and James Joyce and Colette and and Oscar Wilde -- it was just so damn masterful, heartbreaking, funny, and beautiful. See? Kind of hard to explain. But I loved it, and when I tried to start telling B. over sundried tomato pizza and pints of Blue Moon tonight how much I loved it, my eyes got teary and I couldn't find the words. Thank you again, Leenie.

The only other thing I have to say is that my Riggins shirt came in and I was a little excited about it.

Misc.

Recently, B. and I were in my car, riding along behind a van with a bumper sticker on it that said, "I'd rather be in Puerto Vallarta." I said, "That guy'd rather be in Puerto Vallarta." B. said, "Where is Puerto Vallarta?" And said he thought it was near Baja or something.

I thought silently to myself, "They used to go to Puerto Vallarta on The Love Boat a lot." A beat later, B. said, "They used to go to Puerto Vallarta on The Love Boat a lot."

Battlestar Galactica: The Phenomenon is one of the more enjoyable things I've watched lately. I happened to flip to it and was so pleasantly surprised to see very random celebrities talking about their love of the show -- really their obsession with it. S. Epatha Merkerson? Check. Jesse L. Martin? Check. Brad Paisley? (??) Check. The guy from Anthrax? Check. Joss Whedon? Of course and check. And these aren't just casual fans -- these are people who truly know the show and love the show. And it was all edited together very brilliantly. FANTASTIC.

This guy takes beautiful photographs.

What else? Friday night: crawfish boil with B.'s school peeps. Last night: art show & ice cream. Today: a one-year-old's birthday party.

I'm thinking of taking a graphic novels course. It's a seven-week course, and in addition to other assignments like a paper and a presentation and an evaluation of a collection, it requires the reading of 10 books per week for a total of 70 books. Is this insane? 70 books in seven weeks? Can someone please tell me if this is even humanly possible? I checked out a few of the required books (the professor picks 10, we pick the other 60) yesterday -- the only ones the library had -- The Sandman: Preludes & Nocturnses by Neil Gaiman, The Originals by Dave Gibbons, Out from Boneville by Chris Ware, and Oh My Goddess (volume one) by Kosuke Fujishima. Where in this town are the students supposed to round up 70 graphic novels apiece? I'd like to think libraries but I don't really see that as feasible, and I don't really want to buy all those books. Still -- I see it as kind of a sick and sadistic challenge, and I'll probably try to do it.

Boys & girls

Last night, B. and I watched Friday Night Lights, and Smash's little sister was receiving obscene phone calls from the complete jerks who were harassing her at the movies in last week's episode. And it made me remember something that I hadn't thought about in a long time.

I'm not sure how old I was ... I think it was sometime in 6th, 7th, or 8th grade. I woke up one morning and there was an envelope with my name written on it taped to the outside of my bedroom window. I opened it, and it had some rude, foul things written in it. The main thing I remember is that it asked me to circle my lingerie size and leave the note out for the sender to retrieve. I remember that it freaked me out, and I threw it away. Some time later -- not sure how long -- I got another note. For this one, I remember that my parents were out of town and the older sister of my older brother's friend was staying with us. She was a really nice woman, and we loved her. I remember she always smelled really good. Anyway, I got another note and this one had something about wanting to do something that rhymes with top my ferry. And I was SO completely mortified and horrified and I don't even remember if I knew what that meant. I don't think I did, actually. At least not in those terms. I remember sobbing and sobbing and the babysitter holding me and telling me it was okay and not to be scared. I remember saying through bawling hiccups that it was probably just some stupid boys from the bus, several of whom lived in my neighborhood and would have been in walking distance or biking distance from my window.

I know that it was probably one or more of them, and I knew that then, and that the notes were harmless, but I still remember being so upset and so scared by them. I did not like the idea of someone talking to me like that, thinking of me like that, even if they were just being stupid and playing a joke. Maybe to them it was funny, but to me it was so mean. And though we had our afterschool arguments and dramas on the bus, I thought that we were all friends at heart and that it was mean to do something like that to a friend. Maybe somewhere deep down I worried that it wasn't one of them and that it was some grown-up weirdo, but I don't think I allowed myself to entertain that possibility. After all, only the boys on the bus would know my house and know which window was mine and all that jazz, right?

Anyway, the minute I remembered these notes last night while watching Smash's sister cry over those mean phone calls, I started crying, too. And I cried for Smash's sister and for me and for all the little girls who are taunted, harassed, bothered, and scared by mean little boys or big boys who might think they're being funny but who are really just being awful. I've been thinking about it all day, and it just makes me so angry, thinking about how in 2008 we still live in a society where boys being lewd and disgusting to girls is something that happens and makes girls cry. And it makes me feel frustrated that the way this makes girls feel is something that men will never be able to understand, even the best men.

I never found out who left those notes on my window. I ended up going out later in life with one of the neighborhood boys, and I wish I'd thought to ask him if he knew anything about it. I remember knowing then that the notes weren't in his handwriting and trusting that he was my friend and would not treat me that way. I remember not recognizing the handwriting at all. Again, I know they were just jokes, and I know they were put there by kids, but they were still gross and made me feel so heartbroken and terrified inside. I don't know if I can explain it, really.

I don't really have anything else to say about it. Except that I understand why Smash wanted to smash those boys' faces in. I hope my brother wanted to do the same thing for me.

Good actin'

I caught a Nip/Tuck rerun recently and watched it because it featured Rosie O'Donnell even though for the most part this show is truly disgusting. She was good, and Oliver Platt was great. GREAT. I've always liked him. Ever since Flatliners. Which in my 9th grade mind was a really good movie. I thought he was the most hilarious thing in that.

And in this episode of Nip/Tuck - WOW. He just blew me away. Especially in his scene with Roma Maffia when she challenged him to be who he really was. He was reliving the splendor of his experience at the Pride parade and bursting to say YES, I AM GAY! But he didn't. He was able to convey about 45 different emotions on his face at the same time, and it was clear what each one of them was. Amazing.

I maintain that Nip/Tuck is a vile show. Not just in terms of the (VILE) graphic scenes but in terms of what side of humanity it insists on revealing: the vile side.

You can watch a sequence of Platt's scenes in this episode here. The scene I admired so much starts about 3:10 into this. Really, this entire 9 minutes or so is totally worth watching. He is so, so good. It's all very touching and funny. It's too bad the show can't be more like these scenes all the time. He and Rosie are great together - it's funny and sad and sweet. "I wish I could take your pain away." This man needs an Emmy. I mean it.

I know every step, I know every song

It's Sunday morning. It's cold and windy. (For us.) I'm watching Chitty Chitty Bang Bang on ABC Family.

I finished classes. Last week, I had two finals and a pretty busy week at work, so it's kind of a blur. I still don't know how I did in the classes, but deep in my heart I am hoping for As. It was a given in one class, but not so much in another. We'll see. I'm not really ready to reflect upon the experience yet, but overall, I think I'm glad I did it. I really liked most of the people I met, and I was really looking forward to a party with them last night, but my sister was in town, and I decided it was more important to sit on the couch in my pajamas and eat Thai food and watch Friday Night Lights reruns with her.

I baked about a bazillion cookies yesterday for coworkers and for a gift wrapping party we're having at work for the adopt-a-family project we do every year. I just ate a sugar cookie with a toffee Hershey's kiss on it for breakfast. I am a little surly that I am out of coffee. I'd go to the coffee shop but it might as well be a Nor'easter for how well I cope with a little nip in the air.

I've watched the first six episodes of Big Love season two. I think I like it better than season one because the audience is subjected to way fewer Paxton butt shots, Paxton's overall likeablility notwithstanding. I reread Mine for Keeps and continued my lifelong bow at the feet of Jean Little. I ordered two used old Ellen Emerson White books I've never read (the first two in her Vietnam series, as Zack Emerson). I have a date with my little brother to watch Once, which actually comes out on Tuesday, for real.

I've been playing with my new Flip video camera, which Rosie O'Donnell raved so much about that I could no longer resist it. There was a time in my life, years really, when I went nowhere without a video camera. It was something I used to love, and I am glad to have one again, even though it's kind of silly. My main problem is that the quality is actually pretty good for such a wee little contraption when I'm watching the video on my computer, but once I compress it with iMovie into a format (a Quicktime video uploaded online) where I can actually share it with people, it both looks and sounds like ass. I would like to figure out a way around this, but I'm not sure how. When I figured out how to split the audio and video clips and really manipulate them, oh, that was a happy day. I've only made a couple of videos, but they amuse me. Now I just have to figure out how to not make my pithy captions go by so fast that people have to pause the video to read them. Once I get a better hang of the whole thing, I'll try to post one here. I can't believe how easy it is to edit a little digital video now when back in the day I was using giant VTR tapes and some crazy editing equipment with giant toggle knobs. Weird.

Here are a few songs new to me that I really like: "Have You Ever" by Brandi Carlile, "Always Something New" by Matty Charles and the Valentines, "Eyes" by Rogue Wave, "Soul Meets Body" by Death Cab for Cutie, and "Broken Heart" by Motion City Soundtrack. If my boyfriend knows anything, it's songs I will like. The last one is one I wish I could go running to, that is if I remembered how to run.

Soon I need to get ready to go hear my dad give a teaching about Advent and a family brunch. But I have a few hours to kill, and I wish I had the Hairspray DVD with me because I'd watch it right now.

Update

B. said that the bathtub is starting to resemble "Gollum's lair." True enough. It takes forever to drain so the dirt just settles instead of going down with the water. The plumber is coming Friday, thank God.

I just read The Year of Magical Thinking, and at first I thought it was brilliant and moving and then it kind of started to slog and then I decided it's overrated. Is that wrong? Maybe I hardened my heart because reading about death and grief is just a little too much to handle in that large a dose.

Yesterday I walked into a wall and now I have a large goose egg and scrape on my forehead. It's very becoming.

School remains sort of soul-crushing. I try really hard, but after a C on the midterm and two consecutive Bs on assignments, I am feeling a little discouraged. Perhaps I must surrender the fantasy of getting straight As. I did the last time around in grad school, so I guess I thought I'd do the same this time. But probably not. UGH. I am right on the A/B borderline in one class, and with the coming assignments, things are not looking good.

"Finally...I LOVE FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS! I'm not sure I can say it enough. And boy...Riggins. Riggins! The tortured soul! The bedroom eyes! Jesus! Let's end the strike for Riggins!" -- Jenna Fischer. I will miss my favorite shows if they all go black because of the strike (The Office, Ugly Betty, Brothers and Sisters, Pushing Daisies), but I will miss Friday Night Lights most of all. But still - how can I not support the strikers in my heart? If there's anything I've learned this semester in school, it's that intellectual property is no joke and you can't just use people's creations without giving them credit/compensation. Go read this editorial by one of the creators of Lost.

What else? So much for my healthy eating plan. This weekend I ate chicken pizza, shrimp pasta, chocolate chip and sugar cookies, and a giant roasted egg plant/roasted red pepper/goat cheese/walnut sandwich. Fantastic!

I would just like to say that any program that allows me to talk into my computer and hear my sister talking back from a coffee shop in Bolivia is a fine program by me. Thank you, Skype!

My mom and I had a nice afternoon on Saturday. We decided to escape from our chores and obligations and go to see Dan in Real Life. It was silly and cute and we ate popcorn and it was fun to hang out together. We listened to showtunes on the way there and she made the declaration that Rodgers and Hammerstein never wrote a bad showtune. Then I tried to sing along with "People Will Say We're in Love" and got the lyrics wrong and she corrected me. "It's 'here is the GIST, a practical list of 'don'ts' for you!" It was amusing. She reminded me that Oklahoma and The King and I were the only albums she had as a child. When we got home, I showed her clips of Hugh Jackman as Curly. (I think I might start watching this every single morning before facing the day.) Then of him hosting the Tony Awards. Then of him singing "Oh, What a Beautiful Morning" on Inside the Actors Studio. (Note: terrible video, good audio, which is all that counts here.) Now her life is richer because she has seen Hugh Jackman in his three shining moments of glory and in fact now knows who Hugh Jackman even is, which she did not before. (Note: I completely agree with everything Miss Alli said about Hugh Jackman. He was SO charming on the Tonys and Inside the Actors Studio, but none of his movies have aptly captured his awesomeness. This must change.)

More remedies for the blues

Remedy: Listening to Gordon MacRae singing "Oh, What a Beautiful Morning" on the way to work.

Not a remedy: Toasted marshmallow hot chocolate from Starbucks. It tastes like someone dumped the powdery dust at the bottom of the Lucky Charms cereal box into a mug of hot chocolate. It is not good.

Remedy: Going out for an impromptu evening of beers and dinner with school friends after class when we all simply could not face the library and opted instead to walk on a beautiful night to dinner and where we visited and where I feel like I saw them all in a completely new way. They are all very neat people.

Not a remedy: Feeling somewhat awful about the state of several assignments.

Remedy: Suddenly deciding after 32.5 years of life that I rather enjoy cooler weather. Not cold, but cool. I slept more solidly last night than I have in months, and it was the coldest night we've had since last winter. No heater ... just nice warm pajamas and an excellent comforter. Coincidence? I think not.

Remedy: I don't know squat about the television industry other than I love television a whole lot and always have. I've been closely following the strike story on Pamie's site, Stee's site, Jenna Fischer's, James Gunn's. Striking reader Tony sent me these links, and I thought I'd pass them along. I just think that regular people should not get screwed over by big business and it's kind of that simple in my mind.

Remedy: George Bush's veto override. I don't even know what he vetoed. I'm just glad Congress handed it to him. SUCK ON THAT, GEORGE BUSH. I only wish they'd pulled it together and done it for the stem cell bill. That still burns me up so ferociously when I think about it that I become physically ill.

Remedy: Watching the dogs investigate their early Christmas present from B., their first-ever proper doghouse.

Thoughts

I have now watched Fever Pitch on FX two times in two days. I first watched this movie on an airplane and liked it well enough then, but apparently I like it more each time I see it. If it's on tomorrow, by God, I'll probably watch it again.

Now as I wait for Pushing Daisies, I'm watching Designing Women, which markedly declined with the arrival of these two women in place of Charlene and Suzanne. Whoever they are. Anthony is giving a tearful speech to Julia, accompanied by slow piano music, about hard it is when women clutch their purses when he walks down the street. I much more enjoyed fiery moments like when Julia yelled at that horrible woman who came to show her home on the historic homes tour. And of course when she yelled at that beauty queen about the night that the lights went out in Georgia.

I don't even know what to say. I finished The Pigman for the fiftieth time, and mostly it just made me sad.

You know how they have "unexplained" versions of illnesses? Like my sister knows a girl who suddently went deaf in one ear one day. Boom. Unexplained deafness. Do you think there is such a thing as unexplained sadness? Maybe I am sad because I feel heavy and bulbous. Maybe I am sad because I got a C on a midterm in a class I've worked really hard in. Maybe I am sad because Daisy (spoiler-coded for the squeamish) somehow tore her dewclaw off and all that's left is a tiny bloody stump and I don't know what to do about it. Maybe I am sad because I don't know why I am working so hard in these classes when getting an actual degree will take years upon years and I don't even know why I want to get it. Maybe I am sad because all my boyfriend and I ever do in our "spare" time anymore is study. Well, I occasionally spend entire nights on the couch eating homemade stir fry with vegetables and brown rice and watching TV, just like always, but otherwise: studying. I don't know why I am sad. It is unexplained sadness. But it's sadness all the same.

How cute and wonderful is Pushing Daisies? It's like its makers knew just the TV show I needed this fall. And Barbara Barrie's name just appeared in the opening credits! Which is always a good thing. I loved her on Double Trouble, I loved her as Rick Sammler's mom on Once and Again, and I'm sure I'll love her on this.

What else is there to say about TV? I am most delighted that about the turn that Mark's storyline is taking on Ugly Betty, and any upcoming episode of it that features an outing to a Broadway show is just fine by me.

Movies I want to see: August Rush, Gone Baby Gone, The Darjeeling Limited, and Dan in Real Life, which I just found out has Norbert Leo Butz in it, for God's sake. And I love Juliette Binoche always. And I just found the clip of her talking about The English Patient on Inside the Actors Studio -- LOVE HER. (I dare tears not to prickle into your eyes almost two minutes into that clip.)

I am so proud of my friend Elizabeth as the opening night of her play approaches. She is a brave and talented woman.

Update!

So life has been busy. I'm not even sure all that has happened since my last post. I read Celebrity Detox because I love Rosie. I've been doing lots of homework and studying and spending lots of hours in the library, which incidentally is a good way to confront germophobia because what is more germy than a library book? I don't know. I thought my only new show was going to be Dirty Sexy Money, but then I went and watched Pushing Daisies, and it won me over in all of about two seconds. Which leaves my old favorites: How I Met Your Mother, which has thus far this season not thrilled me one bit, Brothers and Sisters, which is still excellent though I wish Rob Lowe would cease being orange, and, of course, Friday Night Lights.

As I mentioned before, my brother and I worked ourselves into quite a froth about the direction the show seems to be taking, and I won't say any more about it because my sister is in South America and not watching it yet, but two episodes in, I have come to terms with it and have accepted it and am moving on because I am not going to let one plotline ruin the joy that this show has brought me since the first second it aired. B., who caught up with season one on DVD, thank God, pointed me to this article in The New Yorker, and it's all true. (Warning: Huge spoiler about the end of season one in that article.) Connie Britton was so good in this week's episode that I was laughing and crying at the same time and I am asking you, when watching a TV show that you love, what is better than that?

This week I have many things to accomplish: two midterms, a history presentation, a research assignment, and about six billion pages to read. But I am not thinking about that right now.

B. and I decided to take twenty-four hours to escape from school, the pets, the house, the everything. We headed to the big city, stayed at The Columns, and just spent some beautiful hours walking around the French Quarter and Jackson Square and the river while the sun went down on pretty much the most beautiful day we've had so far in 2007. We had sazeracs on the Columns patio, and we had sazeracs in the courtyard of Lafitte's. We stopped at the Clover Grill and split a grilled cheese sandwich and tater tots at the counter. We walked down to the river and watched a beautiful man playing the saxophone at sunset. We ate a feta cheese, roasted red pepper, red onion, and BACON pizza at Angeli. The next morning, we ate a Columns breakfast and went to Magazine Street to shop at Scriptura, and I lost my wallet somewhere, and that was the only bad thing that happened during the entire 24-hour period of bliss of no studying, no library, no barking, and no worries.

(Some photos from the getaway are in this set.)

Catching up

I have not thought of a damn thing worth writing down lately.

So I guess I will just write a random entry.

I'm not watching any new shows. I'm not watching any new shows. I'm not watching any new shows. Except for Dirty Sexy Money. I wasn't planning to watch it, but I accidentally was too lazy after Private Practice (which I am definitely not watching because it's not good) to get up off the couch, so I watched it, and maybe it's because I had zero expectations, but I thought it was hilarious and enjoyable so I think I'm going to keep watching it. I don't think I can take on any more, though. I think I might actually drop Grey's Anatomy because what happened? Has it always been this bad? It hasn't, right? It used to be pretty good? But now it's pretty terrible. Every medical case has to somehow bang us in the head as really being about the doctors and it's just highly stupid. I think George/Izzy killed this show for me forever. I watched the season premiere of Friday Night Lights online last week and it was both so wonderful and so terrible that I haven't been able to process it. I love it with all of my heart and I am so excited to see it again, but those of you who saw it know what I'm talking about. My little brother and I have discussed it at length and have come to a place of zen about. No matter what happens this year, last year we had one perfect season. Perfect, perfect, rapturously perfect. I have definitely not lost hope for the show, but I am worried about it. I still love Ugly Betty very much. The Office was really good but also really weird. I guess the dark parts were a little too dark for me. And somehow Angela has become my favorite character. I'm not sure when that happened, but it's true.

We haven't been watching any movies lately. I don't really know what we've been doing. Homework. Lots and lots of homework. B. is up to his ears in it, and I'm having a lot more trouble juggling my classes and my actual job/career than I thought I would. I feel sort of multiple personality disordered about the whole thing. I feel a little out of touch and out of sorts. I haven't been able to start any new books since The Road, so I re-read Look Through My Window and A Wind in the Door. God, how I love Look Through My Window. I have read it a million times, and I never get tired of it, and I always fall in love with it again every time. It is a joy.

I am looking forward to getting away to New Orleans two weekends in a row. One for a wedding, one just to get away and spend the nice in a beautiful old hotel, away from it all.

I tried to watch The War, but I gave up after the first night. I might pick it up again. It was very upsetting (duh). One thing I'm glad I caught was a local feature on WASP, Women Airforce Service Pilots of WWII. I'd never even heard of this amazing group of women before. I loved reading about this one in particular.

I don't really know what else to say. I really love this song. I now love the Buble. I can't believe it has come to this. I resented him for a long time because I felt like he was trying to outdo Harry Connick, Jr., who, before people started seeing him in things like Will & Grace and Hope Floats, was a totally kick-ass composer, arranger, vocalist, musician, etc. He still is, obviously, but I think a lot of people started to forget that. And in crept the Buble, acting, I thought, like he was doing some revolutionary thing that had never been done before. It made me bitter and annoyed. But I am over it, and I now love him. And this song and Save the Last Dance for me are the reason why. I can resist him no longer. I don't know what it is with me and the crooners, but I could also listen to this song every day forevermore.

I'm really enjoying disc 6 of the new Brothers and Sisters DVD set from season one. It is chock full of special features. I ended up loving this show a lot last season. It was a happy surprise.

I had a long talk with my sister today from Bolivia. It was just what I needed! And this weekend we're going to see Across the Universe which looks alternately great and awful even though Evan Rachel Wood disturbs and frightens me these days and I prefer to remember her as Jessie Sammler. Mostly I want to see it because Julie Taymor is a genius and this kid can really effing sing and so can this one.

The beginning of fall is such a beautiful thing, and I don't want to miss it by getting lost in a foggy head. I do have a lot of work to do this weekend, but I would like to take at least one walk, take at least one photograph, take at least one breath.

Summer

Summer. Summer is so hot. It's still really quite hot. Hot.

I've always remembered Pamie's entry about moving in with someone, so I went to her archives and found it. Here it is. It's still very funny.

So far, we've lived together for 2.5 weeks. We haven't killed each other or any of the animals yet. We baked honey whole wheat banana walnut bread in his bread machine. We made this in the crock pot which continues to taste much better than a Weight Watchers recipe should. I think it's the mango chutney. It's just so good, and I don't even like mangoes. We watched season two of Weeds. We ate sushi and played 80s trivia with friends. Somehow B. got the "Tim" and I got the "Reid" on the answer to a question about a WKRP in Cincinnati actor's show, Frank's Place. That was some good teamwork. He's been studying mostly every waking minute; I've been lying on the couch sweating and wishing the So You Think You Can Dance tour would come to my town.

I started going to my crazy exercise class again because I can no longer button my shorts and I need some endorphins released pronto before I melt away with summer blahs. It has been good to go back. I recognized most of the people there my first time back, the old faithfuls. It is still very painful and sweaty but not in an altogether terrible way. The teacher still shouts, "Love yourself." The gym is a bit like Dante's inferno, but I'm bringing a big bottle of water and drinking from it every few minutes. My shins hurt me so badly when I tried to jog very slowly around the gym for sixty seconds that I cannot believe I once ran 13.2 miles in a row without stopping. How did I ever do that? I'll never know. I wiped sweat out of my eye with my hand, which had just gotten someone else's sweat on it from a sweaty, sweaty mat, and I marveled at my ability to ignore germophobia while actively struggling to catch my breath. Sometimes breathing is more important than cleanliness, you know? And that is why I should probably keep going to this class. Being covered in other people's sweat reminds me that other people aren't walking around trying to make me sick and that their bodily fluids are much like mine. I am crazy; it is true. I also like how people meet eyes across the gym. I'll be doing some insane abdominal exercise and on every sit-up I'll meet eyes with someone on the bike across the gym and she'll be peddling like crazy and looking either empowered or about to die and it's sort of silently acknowledged that there are only sixty seconds to this round and please God we will all make it through until the teacher yells for us to switch. There is a camaraderie there. I am inspired by the fast, lean, incredible hardbodies and by the slower, more overweight people who all seem to be working equally as hard. It's all just sweaty and hot and inspiring and I don't even care how fat my stomach looks or how completely uncoordinated and ungraceful and unathletic I am when I'm there because at least I'm there sweating to high heaven and trying.

I am taking some classes myself this fall and went through a credit card debacle with the bookstore wherein they charged my card four times the price of my textbooks and thus threw my checking account into jeopardy of being overdrawn. So that was a joyous way to start the semester.

Sometimes internet dreams do come true. The entire Days of Our Lives 1986 Thanksgiving episode is now up at YouTube. When we were kids, we would always have Thanksgiving at my aunt's convent, and my brother, sister, and I would sneak upstairs to watch the show every year after lunch on a communal nun TV. And this was by far the best Thanksgiving episode of Days of Our Lives that we ever clandestinely watched. It was flashback bliss.

My latest internet hope is to somehow find a video or a recording of Shawn Colvin singing "Try to Remember" on Broadway's Best on Bravo. Sometimes I wonder if anyone but me even saw this show. But it was a beautiful, heartbreaking rendition and I'd love to hear it again. (There are few clips of the special up, such as Mandy Moore singing "Adelaide's Lament," though the audio is kind of uneven in this clip and makes her sound kind of off. I remember her doing it quite excellently, though.) I'm just putting it out there in the universe so hopefully one day this song will magically re-enter my life.

A few links

I've now had 2 positive transactions with the folks at Irene's Tiles. They rushed something I needed rushed, and they included cute "lagniappe" greeting cards. They've got so many cute tiles, and I love that some of them can be personalized. Here's one of my favorites, which I'm sending out to my sister with love:

I could not be more in love with Alan Sepinwall's commentaries on each brilliant episode of Freaks and Geeks. It's great to read them and relive this wonderful series. "We're all unhappy. That's the thing about life." -- Lindsey Weir.

I guess that's all I've got for now. I'm very excited about what I'm doing tonight. More on that later.

Emmy Nominations

Lead Actor in a Comedy Series

Alec Baldwin ~ 30 Rock

Hm. I've only seen this show a couple of times. I will be annoyed if he wins. I kind of don't like him even though he's funny.

Ricky Gervais ~ Extras

Oh, Ricky! I only hope they do a behind the scenes DVD extra for this awards show like they did for The Office when we got to see them all in their fancy clothes. I will love Ricky Gervais until my dying day, and I really need to check out more of this show. I've only seen it once or twice.

Tony Shalhoub ~ Monk

I think he's won this plenty enough times now.

Steve Carell ~ The Office

Well, clearly. This man delights me on all levels, and he's a large part of what brought me around to finally embracing the U.S. version of The Office with my entire heart. I like him not only because he is hilarious but because he also seems to be a genuinely good person.

Charlie Sheen ~ Two and a Half Men

Ridiculous.

Lead Actress in a Comedy Series

Tina Fey ~ 30 Rock

Not sure how I feel about this since I'm not that familiar with the show.

Felicity Huffman ~ Desperate Housewives

I've written before of my love for her, but I am definitely over this show.

Julia Louis-Dreyfus ~ The New Adventures of Old Christine

She beat Lisa Kudrow on The Comeback last year, and I'm still not over it. So I hope she does not win.

America Ferrera ~ Ugly Betty

How can you not love her? This show has been one of my absolute favorites this past season, and she's done great work on it.

Mary-Louise Parker ~ Weeds

I've only seen season one of this show, but I liked it a lot. Lord knows she can act ... she's won at least one Tony, I know, and a bunch of Emmys or at least Golden Globes. And she is suddenly very, very hot. When did this happen? Has it always been so? Surely not in Boys on the Side. Anyway, if America doesn't win, I guess she's my pick.

Lead Actor in a Drama Series

James Spader ~ Boston Legal

As I said a few years ago, he will be Steff to me for all time.

Kiefer Sutherland ~ 24

"What're you gonna do, shoot all of us?" "No, Ace. Just you."

Hugh Laurie ~ House

I guess I would be okay with him as the winner.

Denis Leary ~ Rescue Me

I'm not sure how I feel about this. There've been times in the past when I've really enjoyed this show. But at the same time, there's always a part of me that thinks it's a little sick and deranged. And the sex scenes with Denis Leary always make me feel like I'm going to become violently ill. But I can't deny that he's sort of captivating to watch. I don't know. I am conflicted about Denis Leary.

James Gandolfini ~ The Sopranos

He's won three times already, but in this case, I'm fine with him winning again.

Lead Actress in a Drama Series

Sally Field ~ Brothers & Sisters

Betty Buckley originally played Nora, and Sally Field was brought in to replace her. It's hard for me to imagine anyone else in this role even though I am rather fond of Ms. Buckley after seeing her blow the roof off as Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard on Broadway in the summer of '96. Sally Field is so good that it's sort of unbelievable. She can do anything, and she pretty much does as Nora, playing funny, angry, terrified, heartbroken, and pretty much every other emotion under the sun, sometimes miraculously all at once, on this show.

Patricia Arquette ~ Medium

I don't really have an opinion of her on this show because I don't watch it.

Mariska Hargitay ~ Law & Order: SVU

I think she seems like a cool person. Her baby is adorable, and she has a blog. But I still do not watch this show because I think it is the stuff of nightmares.

Kyra Sedgwick ~ The Closer

I tried watching this show once, but her accent grated so I turned it off. That said, I really like her. Mostly because she (along with Gena Rowlands and Robert Duvall, of course) was the only decent thing about Something to Talk About and was, in fact, hilarious in her role, and even more because of how great she is in the underrated Heart and Souls. Oh! And how can I forget Singles? I do like her. I think she might win.

Minnie Driver ~ The Riches

Wow! This nomination surprises and pleases me greatly. I've always liked her. I've mentioned before that I would really like to see again her appearance on The Rosie O'Donnell Show when they sang what appeared to be an impromptu harmonized duet of "Truly Scrumptious" from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. My mouth dropped open when I heard how well she could sing. And let me tell you, she is so dynamite on this show. It's kind of mindblowing, really.

Edie Falco ~ The Sopranos

Like Gandolfini, she's already won this three times. But who could begrudge her another?

Supporting Actor in a Comedy Series

Kevin Dillon ~ Entourage

My first exposure to him was in Heaven Help Us, a film we were forbidden to watch as children but somehow did anyway. Then he was in that horrible TV movie with Shannon Doherty. And I'd never seen this show until recently. I saw a few minutes of it, plenty enough to know that I don't like it and that Kevin Dillon plays an idiot.

Jeremy Piven ~ Entourage

I cannot think of Jeremy Piven anymore without thinking about Erin. I think he's a good actor, but I keep reading that he's a real jerk in real life, and I've decided this show is so stupid that no one on it deserves to win anything.

Jon Cryer ~ Stupid Show

No. I do like Jon Cryer, but no.

Neil! Patrick! Harris! ~ How I Met Your Mother

I've said before that this is the best sitcom on television aside from The Office. And he is so, so, so good on it as Barney. This is my favorite nomination on the list, I think. Partly because I'm so happy someone on this show is getting recognized, and partly because I love him both on and off the screen. In the spring of 1997, I saw him outside of the Nederlander Theater after the matinee. This was before played Mark; Anthony Rapp was still Mark back then. (This was also when Norbert Leo Butz was in for Adam Pascal and my sister and I first beheld his wonder and glory.) Anyway, Neil Patrick Harris was with Christine Taylor, and they gave each other a quick peck on the lips on the sidewalk. I stood and gaped at them, transfixed by the adorableness. For good measure, here's a lovely interview he did with Ellen. And here's one of my favorite clips from the show. And just in case anyone hasn't seen it yet, one of my favorite things of all time, Neil Patrick Harris as Javert and Jason Segel and Jean Valjean.

Rainn Wilson ~ The Office

I am truly conflicted over this category! I cannot decide whether N!P!H! or Rainn Wilson should win. My love for them is sort of tied in my heart. I would be happy with either one. I never thought anyone could out-Gareth Gareth, but he has created his own Garethy character, Dwight, and he is so wonderfully crazy that I almost die from pleasure when watching this show. I'm not kidding. Here's some Dwightishness for your viewing pleasure.

Supporting Actress in a Comedy Series

Jaime Pressly ~ My Name Is Earl

I no longer approve of her.

Vanessa Williams ~ Ugly Betty

She is really, really good on this show. She is the only person I would be mildly okay with beating Jenna Fischer.

Holland Taylor ~ Two & a Half Men

I will repeat what I said in 2005: Who in the hell actually watches this show? A lot of people, apparently. I remember being so annoyed years ago when she won best supporting actress in a drama for The Practice on which she was barely even a character.

Conchatta Ferrell ~ Two & a Half Men

I have always liked this actress but no way in hell is she allowed to beat Jenna Fischer.

Jenna Fischer ~ The Office

Her blog is great. She is great. She should win for this scene alone. (Don't watch it if you don't want to be spoiled for the end of season three.) I have recurring dreams about the Jim/Pam relationship. I have no idea why. Either I am competing with her for Jim's love or playing an active role in trying to conspire to get them together. It is sort of embarrassing to admit this. I am definitely rooting for her.

Elizabeth Perkins ~ Weeds

Damn! Another one I really like. I've liked her since Big, and I loved her in Moonlight & Valentino. Well, I guess I could accept her winning. But I'd really like Jenna to win. In case that's not clear.

More thoughts: Here's who I think should have been in the best supporting comedy actor/actress categories: Michael Urie and Becki Newtown, who play Mark and Amanda on Ugly Betty. In a great all-around cast, they really stand out and have managed to be really mean and really funny but also show a lot of heart in their roles. They should have been recognized, definitely. This is a long but excellent reel of clips featuring this very enjoyable duo.

Supporting Actor in a Drama Series

William Shatner ~ Boston Legal

Whatever!

Michael Emerson ~ Lost

I read somewhere that Ben, Desmond, and Juliette saved Lost this past season, and I agree. It's nice to see one of them recognized. He is so creepy and good in this part, and I think he deserves this nomination.

Terry O'Quinn ~ Lost

Locke always seemed like the center of this show to me, but weirdly, I don't remember him doing all that much this season. Maybe I'm just not remembering very well. I still think he's awesome, and I'd be happy to see him win, but to me, this year the show did not belong to him like it has in the past.

T.R. Knight ~ Grey's Anatomy

Huh. He gets nominated for the season when George went from my favorite character to my least favorite character. I guess I can't blame the actor for that so much as the writers, who have all but assassinated his character in my mind, right along with Katherine Heigl's. I really don't know what in the hell happened on that set. But I definitely don't think that making George into an adulterer is doing this show or his character any favors, and I'd like it to cease effective immediately.

Michael Imperioli ~ The Sopranos

He's won once before. I didn't watch it this season, so I don't really know what kind of work he did, but I'm sure it was very good as usual. I can't pick him over Emerson, though. I think Emerson should win.

More thoughts: When thinking about how I wish Matthew Rhys had been nominated as Kevin on Brothers and Sisters, I came across this clip (also featuring Rachel Griffiths, oddly) of him performing "You Can't Get a Man with a Gun," and I died from the awesomeness.

Supporting Actress in a Drama Series

Sandra Oh ~ Grey's Anatomy

I've decided I don't even like Christina anymore.

Chandra Wilson ~ Grey's Anatomy

I wouldn't mind seeing her win just so we could hear another speech as good as the one she made at the SAG awards.

Katherine Heigl ~ Grey's Anatomy

A lot of people hated the Izzy/Denny storyline, but I liked it, and it was mostly because I thought that the actors really sold it. I thought she was fantastic that season. In this scene in particular. But this season ... I can't help it. My hatred for the Izzy/George relationship has colored my opinion of her. I don't want anyone on this show to win, as it turns out. The whole thing has just become too annoying.

Lorraine Bracco ~ The Sopranos

Lorraine Bracco is definitely awesome.

Aida Turturro ~ The Sopranos

I would prefer Bracco to win.

Rachel Griffiths ~ Brothers & Sisters

She's my favorite for this category. This is a fitting nomination. She is incredibly good.

Outstanding Comedy Series

30 Rock

I guess I should give this show more of a chance. I do like Tina Fey.

Entourage

I did not like what little I saw of this show. It was highly irritating.

The Office

I love the British version so much. I resisted this version for a very long time. And then I gave in, and my life is all the better for it. I think it will win, and I think it deserves to.

Two and a Half Men

I do not understand.

Ugly Betty

My love for this show is well-documented. I don't think it belongs in the comedy category even though it's definitely very, very funny, but I understand why it's here. I thought it was way too campy on first viewing, but I stuck with it, and I'm so glad I did. It's over the top and crazy sometimes, but that's sort of the point. When it's moving, it's very moving. There is really nothing I don't like about it. I think everyone should watch it because I think it will brighten your life.

More thoughts: I really wish that How I Met Your Mother were in this category.

Outstanding Drama Series

Boston Legal
Grey's Anatomy
Heroes
House
The Sopranos

I'm not going to write about these shows individually. I'm just going to say that I would kick any one of them off the list except for The Sopranos and replace it with Friday Night Lights or Brothers and Sisters (which I will simply say is a fantastic show that exceeded my every initial expectation). My other favorite drama? Battlestar Galactica? I understand, regrettably, that it doesn't have a chance in hell at an awards show like this. But Friday Night Lights is not set in outer space. It's set in a small town in Texas, and it's about real people. It's really hard for me to understand how it didn't end up in this category if this category is supposed to include the best. And it's not like I have some kind of blind love for the show. I am attached to it emotionally, but from an objective, critical viewpoint, it's just awesome television. Its lack of recognition makes me want to tell everyone involved in the television academy to sit and spin. Which I realize is not a mature reaction. But I wish it would have been nominated if only to convince a few more people to watch it. I didn't write about what actors from the show were left out of the acting categories because I didn't want to start to sound like a broken record. I wish Kyle Chandler had been nominated. I wish Connie Britton would have been nominated. And so forth. Here's a short little scene between them that's not too super spoilery in the grand scheme of things. I guess I should not let this upset me so much. I guess what it all boils down to is that when I love something I want everyone else to love it too because I want it to make them as happy as it makes me. Is that weird?

(Similar entries: 2005 and 2004.)

Stupid Emmys.

Take this sinking boat and point it home

It's Sunday night, and I'm listening to the Once soundtrack. Glen Hansard is singing "Say It to Me Now."

It was a full and lovely weekend. On Friday night, I did a lot of chores aroung the house that were long overdue. I woke up on Saturday morning, watched a little bit of Return with Honor, got packed up, stopped for a frozen coffee, and headed to see my boyfriend. On the way there, I had a nice long talk with my sister, who was stranded curbside in Queens with a dead car battery and a spilled iced coffee just trying to get the hell out of New York about religion and faith and whether it's possible to have faith in a higher power without having a religion and whether it's possible to believe in a higher power while deep down knowing that it's all pretend even if it's just to make yourself feel better about rotting in the ground vs. living on. It was a good talk, and it was good to talk to someone who understands where I am coming from in this realm probably better than anyone else ever could because we grew up in the same house believing the same things and now have many of the same questions and doubts.

Once I got to the big city, my boyfriend and I had lunch and went to see Once, which I loved. Loved, really, in italics. There was not a moment of it I did not love.

The next paragraph will be full of Once spoilers. I would not read it if you have not seen the movie and plan to because it will ruin it. Okay. Don't ruin it.

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Beginning of Once spoiler space.

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Don't read this next paragraph. I mean it!

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I started crying the first time she sat down at the piano in the back of the piano store and they sang "Falling Slowly" because not only is it a beautiful song, it was such a beautiful moment. It basically blew me away. And then I cried and cried and cried at the end, when it was clear she wasn't going to show up, when the piano got delivered and she smiled that huge smile, when it showed her with her husband and their daughter through the window, when he called his ex-girlfriend who looked perfectly nice in the old home movies, when their lives went on without each other. My boyfriend and I agreed that if for some reason you don't like the music in the film then you won't like the film, but I reckon, how can you not like the music? It is so beautiful. I thought their performances were so incredibly natural and real and moving. It was such a moving film. Even though part of me of course wanted them to live happily ever after, I think I liked that they didn't, or at least if they did, they didn't do it together. Even if their lives didn't dramatically change due to their meeting, at least on the outside, they changed so much, clearly, on the inside. And they'll always carry the secret of their experience and their lives will be better for it. GOD, THIS MOVIE IS AWESOME. I loved it so much, and the tears I cried weren't really sad tears. They were the good kind of tears, the tears of beholding something beautiful, the tears that make you feel cleansed.


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End of Once spoilers.

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After we saw Once, we went out for Vietnamese food and then went to see the Police! My knowledge of the Police is limited to basically whatever songs of theirs made it into the top 40. Which is clearly a lot of songs, because I knew most of them that they played. It was a very exciting concert on many levels. Part of it was my boyfriend about to dance out of his seat next to me, singing along to every word. Part of it was seeing his friend, a drummer, playing the air drums in his lap along with Stewart Copeland. Who, by the way, is one intense individual. He did not just play the drums. He PLAYED! THE! DRUMS! With total concentration and maniacal energy. It was pretty amazing to behold, actually. And Andy Summer, guitarist, was very interesting to watch. He did not really seem interested in putting on any kind of a show, breaking a smile, or in any doing anything but playing the living shit out of his guitar. It was almost like he was thinking, "I am Andy Summer. There is no one in this arena and possibly the universe who can play the guitar like I can, and I am getting paid a shit load for this, and everyone can really suck it." But then at one point he totally broke out of that blase, stony-faced attitude and started doing herkies across the stage. Which was so out of the blue that it made me love him a little bit.

Meanwhile, there was Sting. On the way to the concert, I said, "I hope that Sting wears a shirt that shows off his guns." And my boyfriend looked at me like I was crazy and I said, "Oops, did I just say that out loud?" And the admiration I feel for Sting isn't so much lust as it is just straight-up admiration that the man is 55 and still has the body of a very in-shape 21-year-old. I only wish I were in half as good of shape. Seriously. And the thing is, he obviously knows it. Copeland was insanely wailing on his drums with focus and the occasional burst of silliness, Summer was mostly just playing, like, "Eh, I rock," but Sting was such a natural showman. He smiled, he played his bass like he could do it in his sleep, he encouraged audience sing-a-longs, and he exuded such ease and such cool. Sting is just very cool. That is what he is. And yes, he did show off his guns. And he took several opportunities to promenade around the stage so people in all directions could take in his sunshine and light. At one point during "I Can't Stand Losing You" there was lots of singing along with the crowd and he said something about New Orleans being alive and that maybe if we sang loudly enough, they could hear us in Washington, DC, so I sang as loudly as I could, and I hoped Elizabeth could hear me, because she loves Sting more than anyone I know, and because I was singing to her.

This morning, we went out to brunch, where the best things were the fried green tomatoes crusted in parmesan with crawfish tails and remoulade sauce and my boyfriend's sazerac. We talked a little about faith, non-faith, and the place in between.

After hundreds of old video tapes cascaded upon my head when organizing my closets with contents ranging from many episodes of Life Goes On, Beauty and the Beast, The Rosie O'Donnell Show, thirtysomething, and such things as the 1991 People's Choice Awards and Bill Clinton's first inauguration celebration and the high school graduation episode of 90210, I decided to grab those featuring home movies of friends and family and head over to my dad's machine that lets you record VHS tapes onto DVDs. I only made it through one tape, but it was a great one, indeed. It has our 1991 family vacation where we spent two weeks driving from San Diego to San Francisco, recording every beautiful and annoying moment, and then my brother's 8th and my sister's 15th birthdays that December, then all of the Christmas festivities of that year. Visits from friends and relatives, a legendary rendition the rap song "Friends, How Many of Us Have Them?" by my older brother's best friend at the time while my friend gasped in laughter in the backround, my brother's recitation of inspirational speech after inspirational speech about American free enterprise, my sister telling me to get the camera out of her face repeatedly, my mom looking gorgeous and being infinitely patient, my sister being secretly filmed by me while sitting on our bedroom floor belting out Chicago's "You're the Inspiration," and my dad being hilarious and showing his dad how to use his new razor. Most of all, though, my little brother steals every show on this 1991 tape, being the most adorable 8-year-old ever to live, dressing up as Peter Pan and wearing his Terminator 2 t-shirt, singing "Happy Birthday" to himself, having a tantrum when my older brother took his bullsye-hitting dart off the dartboard to the point where he lay face down on the floor and screamed, "JERK! JERK!" at him, and then recovering and sitting calmly at the dinner table narrating about the whole affair: "He took my dart off the dartboard on purpose, and I pitched a fit. And then I spilled milk on my pants." And he was just sitting there, eating diced-up pieces of hot dog, milk all over his pants, matter-of-factly admitting his fit pitching, like, totally over it already, demonstrating at age 8 the mellow chillaxity that he still displays on a daily basis.

Watching the tape from that year, the year I was seventeen, when I was mostly behind the camera, and seeing that little glimpse into our loud and busy house and how we laughed and cried and yelled at each other -- and watching so much of it tonight with my parents as they said things like, "Woman, you had some hair back then," and seeing how they got bundled up on Christmas night to go walking around the neighborhood with my dad as the instigator and my mom going somewhat reluctantly but merrily along and how they still do the same thing every night fifteen years later ... it was too much. We are all so different now but also so the same.

And that was just parts of one year. And does not even begin to touch the hours and hours I have from filming my friends in high school and college being ridiculous and doing ridiculous and often dangerous things that I will definitely not be re-watching with my parents in the room like today. I called Maryelizabeth to tell her what she was doing on this one tape I was reviewing from New Year's Day, 1993, our senior year of high school (lecturing, "All of my friends' kids are going to have birth defects because all they do is SMOKE!" and lying on the couch under a blanket singing "Welcome to the Jungle") and I was laughing so hard that when he answered the phone her husband thought I was crying.

I think I would like to buy a new video camera.

And now, a scan of a card I bought at Jazz Fest that I love.

Oprah is pissing me off.

Lately I've decided that I kind of dislike Oprah.

It started when she, Gayle, and some other women went on some kind of Life Challenge weekend in the desert or some place. And part of it was about conquering fears and phobias. And Gayle was afraid of heights. So she had to climb up a pole and jump from it while swinging around through the air from some kind of rope. And she was scared out of her mind; that was clear. And Oprah laughed and laughed at her, both there and in the studio while watching the tape in front of the audience. She laughed harder than I've ever seen her laugh. She laughed at Gayle while Gayle was frozen in fear, laughed until tears came out of her eyes. And I thought, "You know, that is really very shitty of Oprah to laugh while her best friend faces a fear that is obviously very real to her." I would not appreciate it very much if, while I was doing something that scared me to death, such as being around cockroaches (not that I would ever try to conquer that fear at a Life Challenge, oh hell no), someone I love stood by and laughed at me. I've no doubt that Gayle and Oprah's love for each other is real and true, and I'm sure Gayle could look back on it later as a positive thing and even laugh at herself, but at the time, it wasn't funny to her at all. But hoo boy, it sure was to Oprah. Nice, Oprah. Really nice.

So it was with that sort of displeasure with Oprah that I saw part of last night's episode, which described a straight man who lived with a gay man for thirty days in San Francisco. (You can read more about this "experiement" here.) This was an All-American whitebread sort of man who was very anti-gay. And he said that he agrees with Bush that marriage between gay people is wrong. And he said that murdering someone and being gay are both sins, and sin is all the same in the eyes of God. And in the end, he realized that if his children end up gay, he will still love them and want them to have the same rights as straight people. Well, great. How nice of him to have this epiphany. But Oprah just found it all a bit too funny, this guy's experience with the gay community in San Francisco. And HERE he goes to his FIRST GAY BAR! Oh, the HILARITY. It was treated like he was just some dumb jolly doofus from the midwest, and isn't it sooooo funny to watch him be uncomfortable around GAYS. Like bigotry is so hysterically funny. I can't really describe it, but the tone of the whole thing really put me off and soured me so harshly against Oprah that I had trouble falling asleep after watching it. It just burned me up. I could not imagine her in a million years treating bigotry against African Americans or women or some other socially disenfranchised group so lightly and playing it all up for humor. It made me feel actually sick. It does not even matter to me that Oprah clutched hands with the guy in a big double-handed high five at the end for coming to his senses (allegedly) that hey! Gay people are people, too! Because I think that for as long as people regard anti-gay jerks as these harmless ignorant people who don't really hurt anyone with their backward, hateful ideas about how gays are sinners and shouldn't be able to get married and oh yeah, that he was worried his new gay roommate would rape him the first night he stayed there -- hello?! -- then we will never really make real progress against organizing against their discrimination and prejudiced laws and stopping them from being elected. It's not funny. It's not cute. It's not harmless. And Oprah should be ashamed of herself.

Meanwhile, I've added several links in the Tony Awards entry to videos of my favorite Tony moments, if you're into that sort of thing.

Elisabeth Ignoramus Hasselbeck

Oh, Elisabeth Hasselbeck.

Today on The View: Joy Behar said, "I want a president who believes in the Constitution rather than in God."

And Elisabeth, in her infinite wisdom, said with all of the force and authority in the world, "Our Constitution has God ALL OVER it!" As if that were the most obvious, no-brainer of a statement ever uttered.

No, Elisabeth. God is most certainly not "all over" the Constitution.

Sigh.

A few links

I heard this song on the radio on the way home from work today. I liked it.

My new favorite celebrity website belongs to Ross Mathews. I don't stay up late enough to watch The Tonight Show, honestly, so I wasn't familiar with him. But now I love him and find him highly entertaining and delightful. And he was on The View today, so of course I was suckered into watching yet another Rosie-free episode. But it was worth it, because Ross is so enjoyable.

Julia Sweeney is updating again. Hallelujah!

Frogs and falling chocolate

Life is going on. I stayed home on Friday night and did a week's worth of chores in one night and watched Dragonfly upon my parents' recommendation. I will not pass the same recommendation on to you. We usually have fairly similar taste in movies, but this one is just bad.

I woke up early on Saturday morning, stopped for a frozen coffee, and headed north to see my boyfriend. We ate pasta with walnut pesto for lunch and went to the grocery store to stock up on food for our canoe trip later that night. We spent part of the afternoon watching The Good German, which had cool lighting and a neat style but was mostly a bore. That said, Cate Blanchett remains unbelievably stunning and amazing to watch. This movie looked like a series of very beautiful black and white postcards, but the story never grabbed me.

We had a good time canoeing though this trip was somewhat less exciting than the last. I really enjoyed eating our sandwiches in our boat as the sun set. My favorite parts of this trip were the two frogs who hopped on board, Fritz and Ferdinand, the latter of whom spent much of the ride perched on my boyfriend's knee. And it was cool to only be guided by starlight since there was no moon.

We had an excellent brunch Sunday morning ... a mimosa, great Nicaraguan coffee served in a French press, soup with pesto and orzo, grits with veal grillades, and warm bread pudding with sugared pecans and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top. It was pretty much ecstasy on a table. And seeing a little about how they do things there make me like it even more in retrospect.

I would like to randomly point out that I predicted before Rosie even joined The View that things between Rosie and Elisabeth would end badly. I remain somewhat obsessed with how suddenly things spiraled into such ugliness at the end, and I stupidly keep watching the show because of guests hosts like Kathy Griffin, whom I love. Damn you, The View.

I stopped at Maryelizabeth's house on my way home yesterday and hung out for a while. Her baby is a ball of cute with black hair and blue eyes, just like her three-year-old was. I actually strapped the two-month-old in the baby carrier and toted her around the grocery store on my chest, which was amusing. I have to say, it's pretty astounding to see my friend with these two little girls, juggling them and wrangling them like a champion. I am sure it's not easy, and I give her props for remaining upright. Meanwhile, our mutual best friend Shelley is moving to Hawaii in six days to take up residence with her fiance, Bachelor Andy and Tessa, and the cast of Lost. Holy shit!

Between watching The Good German and reading the amazing The Book Thief, I've been consumed with all things German lately. I recorded American Experience: The Berlin Airlift, and it was pretty fascinating. I'd never even heard of it. The entire time I was reading The Book Thief, it occurred to me that I never really gave much thought to the ordinary German people during World War II. As for the characters in the book on Himmel Street, they were just poor people trying to survive and eat and who truly lived in fear of not joining and following "the party." They weren't evil, murderous people who wanted to annihilate Jews and take over the world even though they were "Heil, Hitler"-ing with the best of them. Disclaimer: I am going to sound very simpleminded and like an elementary school child when trying to explain this: it made me wonder if somewhere in my mind, not really consciously, but if somewhere in my mind, I grew up villainizing a whole country of people, imagining them all as wicked and evil, because of what their leader did. I honestly don't really think I ever thought about anyone in Germany at that time except for Hitler and the Nazi party officials and the SS. But what about the people who were just trying to live, keep their jobs, afford bread, and not freeze to death, and whom we bombed to rubble? And my boyfriend pointed out that much of the world probably thinks the same way about us. Not that George W. Bush is Hitler or that what he's done is like what Hitler did, but he's certainly no peach and we've just sat back and let him continue doing and saying one stupid-assed thing after another.

Anyway, my point is that the show about the Berlin Airlift just drove home a lot of the thoughts I had while reading that book. The people in Berlin were starving and their city was crushed and divided, and they needed help. And so for whatever reason -- out of the goodness of Truman's heart or because he wanted to be reelected -- whatever the reason, this huge operation was undertaken to feed them. And the kids on the show talked about how the sound of American and British planes overhead was once the terror of their lives -- just like in The Book Thief -- and now all of a sudden they had to wrap their minds around the fact that when they heard these planes, they did not have to fear for their lives and hide in the basement until the all clear because it was now a friendly sound and chocolate bars would fall from the sky. Can you even imagine? And the American and British pilots talk about how they didn't have warm feelings towards the Germans because they were the enemy, after all, right? But when they landed with the food, they saw that they were just normal people, some of whom even ended up being mechanics on their planes so the project could keep going and succeed. They were like, hello, we were just blowing each other up a few months ago, now let's work together and make this work.

It's just a lot to think about. I saw photos of these kids and I thought about Leisel and Rudy in the book and it was like fiction and reality were colliding in my mind and heart. And the show talked a lot about the splitting of the city into the four quadrants and now all of a sudden Russia became the enemy and look, half a century of fear or more death and horror started and a wall was built and what the hell? It makes my head hurt and spin a little and wish I had taken a lot more history classes. I mean, my God, I think I took something like 8 or 9 of them in college, but not really from this period. And I kick myself for that. And now I have put truly an inordinate number of World War II documentaries into my Netflix queue. And I really, really, really want to go to Berlin.

Friday

As soon as I saw this news last night, I called my little brother. He yelled the news out to the people nearby, and shouts ensued. "The household," he reported, "is rejoicing." I then called my sister, and we rejoiced, too.

My sister pulled her last all-nighter of law school last night, finishing the biggest paper of her life. I am thinking of her right now and am so proud of her. My friend and I were talking recently about a Thai restaurant we went to that August when we went to move her in. And that feels like it just happened. Time flies.

Last night I watched Catch and Release, mostly because I really like Jennifer Garner and Sheriff Seth Bullock. And I'm going to have to give it about a C+. I liked all of the actors; even Juliette Lewis was enjoyable. But there was a little too much Kevin Smith playing Kevin Smith (which is fine in small doses, but there was a LOT of him calling people "sir," which he always does nonstop when guest hosting Ebert and Roeper, and it kind of got old), and the story was kind of slow and kind of lame. It almost reached into B- territory because of the good performances and the beautiful setting -- I can't remember ever seeing another movie set in Boulder before, and it gave me very nice and lovely flashbacks of the summer I spent there (I had to laugh when Seth Bullock's character called Boulder "a Patagonia Disneyland") -- but not quite. It wasn't terrible by any means and had some lovely moments, but it wasn't great.

Right now I'm listening to "Send You on Your Way" by eastmountainsouth. I am sad that this band will never put out another album. This is a break-up song that's simultaneously one of the sweetest and saddest I've ever heard. It's sung from the perspective of someone who's letting someone go, the perspective of the ender of the relationship. And that man is wishing the other person well and wishing that the next person will love her the way he couldn't, even though he did love her. And it reminds me of the break-ups of people I've known who love each other so much but just don't want the same things in life at the same time. And all of the angry dead-to-me break-up songs don't apply because nobody really did anyone wrong. As hard as break-ups are, I think it's easier when someone is the obvious villain. When nobody's a villain, God. What torture.

On a lighter note, I remain obsessed with waiting for Waitress. (Check out Nathan Fillion's spot on this enjoyable list.)

Lots of family time coming up this weekend. My boyfriend is off backpacking in the Smokies, and it's bizarre not to be able to contact him. I am very glad he's having guy time, though, because it's important to have time with our friends separately. I hope he is having a blast. Tonight I'm hanging out with Maryelizabeth, tomorrow I'm getting my hair cut and going to dinner with my mom, and Sunday I'm having brunch with my parents and older brother. My little brother is in Las Vegas for reasons that are not to even be believed. But that's a story for another day.

Whirlwind Weekend

Weekend whirlwind, whew.

On Friday night, I drove to see my boyfriend. I didn't get there until later than usual, so there were no big dinner plans. I ate his leftover curry vegetables and rice, and we turned in pretty early. We woke up early on Saturday morning and headed to the big city.

On our way there, I talked to my sister, who'd just run a half-marathon that morning at the very impressive pace of nine-minute miles, once again leaving me in awe of her. Once we got to the city, we attended a Jazz Fest brunch at his neighbor's house ... grits with shrimp, corn casserole, homemade cream biscuits, and other mighty fine dishes. We then headed to the festival, where we saw Snooks Eaglin in the Blues Tent and part of Galactic. We also enjoyed frozen cafe au lait, crawfish strudel, a pink lemonade snowball, a strawberry smoothie, and I think that's it. We spent a lot of time walking around the different arts and crafts booths, which is always fun.

(The Harry Shearer photo is for mo pie.) After sizzling in the sun for a few hours, we headed to a wine and cheese night with his co-worker and his wife. We walked over to the St. James Cheese Company, and smelling the gardenias and jasmine growing all along the gates on the beautiful Uptown streets was pure heaven. Somehow we spent more than $60 on cheese. I don't even know how.

I don't really know much about cheese other than I hate blue cheese and that the worse it smells the more I will hate it. I know that makes me quite a simpleton when it comes to cheese. We bought cheese from different countries, in different shapes, in different containers. It was a cheese extravaganza. The couple laid out an impressive spread of cheese, sliced baguette, crackers, and wine, and we went to town. It was quite fun, and it's too bad that they're about to move away.

The next morning, we went to brunch at the Longbranch. It was very pretty and fancy and delicious. I had the whole wheat pancakes with raspberries and blackberries and cinnamon butter, and he had eggs benedict with ham and English muffins and crispy chive potatoes. And eventually I drove home, talking to Shelley and listening to Cabaret.

I went straight to having coffee with an old friend and to Toni's reading, then I came home and watched Little Children. Which I thought was brilliantly made but pretty gross and disturbing. So I recommend it, but prepare to go, "Ew."

What else? I watched a fantastic episode of Brothers and Sisters, which I swear gets better and better every week. I love Patricia Wettig, I mean, I have loved her since she was Nancy Weston about whose evolution as a character (I'm sure I've mentioned) I wrote a 30-page paper for my Women & Television class. I watched so many hours of tape of her as Nancy that I can recite whole episodes and mimic her hand gestures and facial expressions. And so I am thrilled that she has such a juicy and wonderful role on a show that has turned out, against my initial assessment, to be absolutely good. I love that she won three Emmys for thirtysomething because she totally deserved them, and I love that she is married in real life to Michael Steadman ("Yo. It's my art center."). Love it. Love her. So it pains me to say this. But her very scary boob shelf saddens me. She is 56, and she looks wonderful, and there is no woman whose breasts should sit that high up at the age of 56. Or any age, really. Maybe she is just wearing insane bras, I don't know. It's really my only criticism, and maybe I shouldn't even be making it. I still love you, Patty!

Meanwhile, I've decided that I miss running and that I have to return to it. Not only for my physical but for my mental health. I've felt decidedly more crazy since the half-marathon. For my first run back, I'm shooting for a mile. I'm not even confident that I can run a mile. But I have to start back somewhere.

Pie for days

I spent most of the weekend eating slice after slice of my boyfriend's homemade strawberry pie. I'm a big fan of strawberry pie, as it turns out.

Let's see ... we went out to our favorite Asian restaurant on Friday night. He had honey wasabi shrimp, and I had shrimp with tomatoes, peppers, onions, and pineapple. For dessert, we had strawberry pie and pistachio ice cream. We started The Illusionist.

On Saturday morning, we had cereal for breakfast, stopped at the coffee shop for a granita, and headed out to a festival. This was our first visit to this festival. It's a lot smaller than Jazz Fest, and it was fun to walk around downtown, check out musical acts from Belgium, Finland, and Mexico, and eat festival food like a pink lemonade snowball and crawfish maque choux.

We got back to town, went to a backpacking store, and went home, where I made chicken stroganoff for dinner, inspired by this post of Jackie's. I liked it, but I thought it could have used some cayenne pepper or something to make it a little more fiery. We had more pie and more pistachio ice cream for dessert. Also, we finished The Illusionist, which I definitely do not recommend. It was terrible. Maybe not quite as terrible as The Holiday, but close. It was boring and ridiculous, and I felt embarrassed for all of the actors. Except for Jessica Biel because I don't expect anything better from her. But Edward Norton and Paul Giamatti are really good actors! How are they not mortified to have appeared in this nonsense? Argh. And we also watched Hollywoodland, which I liked but did not love, while playing a game of Scrabble. I thought everyone in this one did a great job, especially Adrian Brody and Ben Affleck, and I thought my beloved Diane Lane was a little over the top, but I still liked her performance.

On Sunday morning, we went to the coffee shop, sat outside, ate a white chocolate raspberry scone and a whole wheat bagel with veggie cream cheese, and read the paper. Soon it was time for him to go home. I did some chores like hedge trimming, went grocery shopping, lay around watching episodes of How I Met Your Mother online, and so forth. I took the dogs on a walk that went awry when Daisy got out of her collar and took off like a rocket after a cat and I ended up trespassing in someone's backyard and ultimately cornering her, which was not an easy task. It's always an odd moment when Zuko's the dog that comes out like the angel of the situation.

Last night, I was watching The Riches, and I had a flashback to when Minnie Driver was on The Rosie O'Donnell Show and she and Rosie sang "Truly Scrumptious" in harmony. It made me really like Minnie Driver from that moment on. I wasn't sure about this show at first, but I've decided that I like it. And I really wish I could find a clip online of them singing, because it was adorable. Truly, I probably still have it on tape somewhere, so maybe I'll dig it out.

I am trying to turn over a healthy new leaf this week. I've been packing on the pounds since finishing the half-marathon training and skipping my crazy exercise class for a few weeks, and I've also been eating like an out-of-control lunatic. It really has to stop. It was almost exactly a year ago that I started Couch to 5K, and I somehow completed that (9 weeks), One Hour Runner (10 weeks), and training for the half-marathon (16 weeks), but I find myself floundering when it comes to health and fitness right now. After missing class for a couple of weeks, getting back into it has been so difficult. It might be because the temperature has been pushing 90 lately, and it feels like it's about 190 in the class. I was doing some move with an exercise bar where you lie on your back and hold it over your head and then do a sit-up with it and on the bar's way back over my head, I hit myself in the nose. Dazed, I reached for my nose and thought it was gushing blood, but the dripping liquid was just a river of sweat! Delightful. I really want to commit to doing the class three times a week and throwing in a day or two of running in there for good measure. And start eating more healthy foods. Just as soon as I finish this strawberry pie.

Denied

Shelley teaches spinning in New York City and is more interested than most in hearing about all of the details of my crazy exercise class. She has become somewhat obsessed with it from across the country, and we both put it on our calendars to go to the class together when she was in town this week. We've been completely excited about it to the point of near hysteria.

So we showed up at the gym. I had the ridiculously high $10 guest fee in hand, and after I scanned my membership card, I told the woman at the desk that I had a guest. She informed me that guests aren't allowed after 5 pm. Shelley and I just stood there and blinked in surprise. The woman pointed to an explanation of this policy taped to the counter. Shelley said, "But we've been planning this for two months!" The women looked unsympathetic. I said, "But we just want to go to the class. What if we ask the teacher for permission and he says yes? Could she come then?" And another woman sitting in an office behind the counter said rather loudly and meanly, "NO. That's the policy." So we turned and walked out, quite bitterly disappointed. I was feeling the angry tears come on, the kind that spring to your eyes when you're not sad but just plain old mad. I might have even gripped the steering wheel and made angry wailing noises. We consoled ourselves by ordering a ton of take-out sushi and heading to Maryelizabeth's, where we were cheered up by her kids' cuteness and the surreal save the world episode of American Idol. Can I just say once again that I love Josh Groban? I know, it makes no sense.

I am trying not to let my rage at being denied so harshly at the gym diminish my love for it. I truly do love that gym in all of its stinky, crowded glory. I feel like it's the gym of the people. And the policy, while totally not conducive to our plan, is posted. And I guess it does serve the purpose of depopulating the gym at its peak hours when there truly are not enough treadmills and weight machines to go around. I wish they would have let us ask the teacher for permission, because there is no way he would have turned away a willing body at whom he could scream, "LOVE YOURSELF!" And I really don't think one more body in that class would in any way tax the resources of the gym, particularly if they were paid that astronomical guest fee that they charge. But whatever. I am still going to love my class and its teacher and ignore the existence of those bitches behind the counter who did not even try to pretend to be nice about squelching our aerobic dreams.

I'm sad that Rosie won't be returning to The View next season but not surprised. My love for her remains unconditional and unwavering, and I will keep reading her blog and watch and see what comes next. Frankly, after enjoying her old show so immensely, it was a total coup and blessing to be able to watch her on TV every day again for a whole season. I love her, love her, love her.

I find myself having building anxiety about the presidential election. I am just not sure that America is ever going to truly recover from the across-the-board debacle that has been the George W. Bush presidency. I feel the only way that this country can redeem itself is to not allow its next president to be elected by the evangelical, redneck, gun toting right. I'm sure lots of evangelicals are lovely people, but it's the maniacal ones, like those who support the recent Supreme Court decision on abortion, and think that intelligent design should be required to be taught in public schools, and think that stem cell research kills babies, and think that only a Republican president will keep the terrorists away, and who think that there is actually a way to "win" in Iraq -- that there is something actually to be "won" there, what the hell, seriously, what are we trying to win? whom are we trying to beat? what is the definition of winning in Iraq, I really wish someone would just tell me -- who frighten and horrify me on every level. (Elisabeth Hasselbeck actually said, relative to the election and terrorists, that certain Democratic candidates would not be able to keep the terrorists from striking. Because some of them want to pull us out of Iraq. Like the two are connected. What? Is this not 2007? Has she learned nothing? What is going on?) I truly am frightened that they are so much more organized than the left will ever manage to be that they are going to win again. And it really is a crippling fear that strikes me deep in my heart. I was listening to the political junkie on NPR in the car the other day, and someone called in to say he was a conservative evangelical and that none of the Republican candidates are conservative enough for him. He was an intelligent-sounding, humorous guy, but come on. COME ON. The political junkie said that someone like Sam Brownback might end up swooping in. And I actually was so chilled to the bone by that statement that I felt myself freezing up to the point where I could hardly pay attention to the road. I am in absolute denial of such a scenario. Something like that cannot happen. It just cannot happen. I haven't even picked a Democratic candidate to support -- at this point, just give me a Democrat, any Democrat. I have gotten to the point of feeling totally exhausted and defeated by George Bush's second term and just living for the day when it is OVER. And the thought that someone other than a Democrat will take the White House and that this nightmare of anti-same-sex marriage, anti-stem cell research, pro-war, pro-gun HORROR will continue once that idiot is out of there is enough to make me ... I don't know. Make me deeply sad and deeply scared.

Friday Night Lights

And once again, Friday Night Lights has reduced me to a quivering mass of teary goo. Half the time, it's not even the show, it's the damn preview for next week. Pretty much all it takes for this show to make me cry is putting Connie Britton and and Kyle Chandler in the same frame. But they're not the only ones. If you would have told me last fall that a show about small town Texas high school football would turn out to be exquisite television, I would have thought you were crazy. But it is.

It just won a Peabody. The Peabody judges said this about it: "No dramatic series, broadcast or cable, is more grounded in contemporary American reality than this clear-eyed serial about the hopes, dreams, livelihoods and egos intertwined with the fate of high-school football in a Texas town."

And it's true. I love my Ugly Betty and I love my Battlestar Galactica (though it seriously fell into lameness this past season before rebounding at the end), but my love for this show is on a whole different level because it's so real. It's raw and it's painful and it's beautiful.

Drunken Bee's recaps are some of my favorites ever at Television Without Pity, and I've been reading the recaps there for a very, very, very long time. You can read them here.

You can read what one of my favorite TV writers, Alan Sepinwall, has to say about the show here.

You can watch the episodes here, or you can catch repeats on Bravo.

I don't know what else to tell you. To me, this show is perfect. There is no show that has meant more to me this season. If next week ends up being the last episode, it will break my heart.

Ramona lives

I guess it's time for another wrap-up. On Friday night, we had a fancy dinner ... my boyfriend had steak and I had the bouillabaisse, which contained basically every seafood known to man. My favorite thing was the spicy shrimp napoleon, which was fried mirliton slices stacked with shrimp remoulade. We had two somewhat frightening parade route crosses to make on foot for the sake of this meal, but it was worth it. We exchanged Valentine's Day gifts after dinner, and I love my Everwood CD, chocolates (so far I've tasted the excellent tarragon grapefruit and the lavendar vanilla), and earrings.

We got up Saturday morning and decided to keep eating ... he had a giant chicken salad sandwich on focaccia and I had grits, scrambled eggs, and onion biscuits. Eventually we headed to the park for our last! long! run! of half-marathon training. I never really got into this run even though I really love the park. It was supposed to be 8 miles, but I only made it to about seven. He ran almost 13, for the love of heaven. I don't know if it was the cloudy day, the strong wind, or just the feeling I've decided I don't like of running in a giant circle around a track, but I did not feel strong at all and never really hit my normal rhythm and stride, turtle-like as they may be. But I survived, despite a strange altercation during our post-run stretching session with Mardi Gras revelers doing drunken, shirtless pull-ups nearby.

As for the running training, I am under no delusion that I am actually ready to run a half-marathon. I'm as ready as I'll ever be, though, and I'm just going to face the music. We drove over the overpass that we'll cross twice on race day, and I felt a little faint as I realized how steep it is. But whatever! I'll just cross that bridge (literally) when I come to it. I will say that I wish that my friends were still coming for the race, and I hope they'll come next year!

After running, we hobbled to Starbucks and then home. Soon enough it was time for dinner, so we headed to La Vita, the new place where Gabrielle used to be, and while the food was pretty good -- chicken pesto pizza for him, linguine in marinara sauce with shrimp for me, along with some bruschetta -- the service was so preposterously bad that it was laughable. We got our appetizer before we got our drinks (not exactly complicated -- sprite and root beer), and the couple near us got their ENTREES before they got theirs. On the menu, it said you got one refill on your soda, so the waitress brought one to my boyfriend when he'd finished his, but she just took my glass away and never brought another one. One waiter knocked a bottle of red wine into the lap of an older gentleman diner, and no one even seemed to care. No waiters or managers came over to assist, no one offered additional napkins or soda water or anything -- and finally he and his wife just left in disgust. It was bizarre. I wondered if we might be on candid camera. It's really a shame, and I hope they can turn it around, because like I said, the food was yummy.

We knew better than to attempt a dessert order at that establishment, so we headed to our favorite dessert place, which was closed for Mardi Gras. So we saw no other option than to go to the supermarket and buy a pint of ice cream for each of us. (Ben & Jerry's Mint Chocolate Cookie for me, Haagen Dazs Exta Rich Light Coffee for him.)

My product recommendation of the day: fleece sheets. They are very soft and warm. But make sure you use an extra fabric softener sheet or two in the dryer as they are prone to sparky static.

Let's see, what else? We watched American Experience, and it was a little bit disappointing. While it had some great stuff about the early years of the city, I guess I thought it would focus on that and be more of an archival, historical sort of documentary instead of a bunch of creative types waxing poetic about the magical, mystical, mysterious New Orleans. Some of it was just eye-rollingly trite. I still recommend the show, but I think I confused American Experience with American Masters, which is a freaking amazing show in terms of power and quality -- every one I've seen has blown me away, particularly the episodes on Robert Capa and Eugene O'Neill.

I was very struck by this entry by Andrea. I think it would be a good idea for me to think about how I can put some things in my life on P. Not that my life is so complicated or difficult, but there are probably things that I make more complicated than they need to be, even if it's just mentally/emotionally more than practically. Andrea is wise.

Because my friend recently saw Half Nelson and has been seized by Goslingitis, I brought Chinese food and The Notebook over to her house on Sunday night. We all dug into cashew shrimp, sesame chicken, vegetable fried rice, and egg rolls, and as we wept and wailed loudly at the end of the movie, her three-year-old jumped on top of her, clutched her face in her hands, and consoled her with great vehemence: "It's okay, Mommy. It's OKAY." I have decided that three-year-olds are the most awesome creatures on earth, especially when they do things like try to fake cry and then burst out laughing, recite the Pledge of Allegiance, sound out words and ecstatically shout out the letter when they figure out what it starts with, perform the entire refrain to "Amie" by Pure Prairie League, and have the same haircut as Ramona Geraldine Quimby.

Meet you in the light

Okay. Weekend update. Life update.

On Friday evening, my boyfriend and I dined with friends and ate our weight in bread and pasta. It was a fun time.

We woke up on Saturday morning and did some errands ... went to the car repair shop, dropped off the lawnmower to be fixed, and other such thrills. We met up with a friend of his and his son after their early morning race and had coffee and giant muffins. Later, we went out to lunch and prepared for our long runs. He ran 12 miles, and I ran 11. I'm not going to lie to you. My sister told me that by miles 11, 12, 13 in a half-marathon, it just starts to hurt. And I've never made it past 11, but she is right. My feet and hips were just hurting and hurting hard. It was nice again to see my boyfriend running along the route at warp speed and to have him drive around to find me once he was done and showered and I was still plugging along to offer me some water and encouragement. Musical high points were Keane's "Bend and Break" and "Holiday" by Green Day. So thanks to Grace and Shelley for those great songs.

While trudging along near the end, I became plagued by doubts that I'll ever be able to run the half-marathon, but I guess I won't know until I try. It's a weird thing. I personally think that running this many miles at one time is kind of inhuman and insane, and I am not going to do it anymore once I've done the half-marathon. I want to keep running, but I am going to definitely stick with more reasonable regular runs of 3-4-5 miles. Once I get to 8 or 9, it's so painful and I get so delirious, but I really want to do the race. I'll be in the back of the pack, probably alongside the walkers, but I really want to try.

I also hope to diversify my exercise and do things other than running, like going to yoga and pilates and some of the wild cross-training classes with a hundred people in them that I see going on at the gym sometimes when everyone is working themselves into a frothy craze jump roping, riding stationery bikes, running suicides, and doing God knows what all at the same time. I want to stick with running, but I don't want it to be the only activity in my life anymore.

We collapsed eventually after our runs and decided to go see Volver because it would take little to no energy. I went into a feeding frenzy at the movie and ate popcorn with a giant box of Reese's Pieces dumped into it. I liked the movie more than he did; Penelope Cruz certainly was fantastic in it, as was everyone else. It was my first Almodovar movie, and I enjoyed it very much.

On Sunday morning, I attempted to make the cinnamon sour cream walnut coffee cake from Amy Sedaris' book, and it was fairly disastrous. I started making it when I was barely awake, and though it looked cooked on the top after 35 minutes at 325 degrees, when I turned the bundt pan over, it fell out in a big pile of goo instead of a lovely heart shape. UGH. I was so mad at Amy Sedaris! I cried, so upset was I. Then I re-read the recipe and saw that I'd misread it -- it was supposed to be 55 minutes at 350 degrees. So I cranked up the oven, picked up the blob of goo with my hands, threw it back in the pan, and baked it until it looked cooked. Some bites were salvageable; some tasted vaguely burned. Maybe I'll try it again someday, because I think it's probably really good when not totally effed up. I'm sorry for cursing you when it was all my fault, Amy Sedaris.

After that, I headed to a luncheon for my friend who's about to have her second baby. We ate shrimp and corn soup, chicken salad, mini-quiches, fresh fruit, strawberry cake, and various other delectable treats. We had a nice time. I am still full from what I ate this weekend. On Sunday night, I lay around like a sloth. It was the only thing I could do. The cats piled on top of me in commiserate slothitude and we watched the Grammy Awards and Brothers and Sisters.

While glad that they won so many awards, I was bummed that the Dixie Chicks could not be bothered to pull together in some kind of unified effort to present an articulate, organized acceptance speech. I know they had to give 5, but even for the first one, they were so totally not making it happen. Their performance was amazing. I mean it. Even though I've seen them perform that song over and over, they always look so totally into it and like they're singing it for the first time. Why could you not be so powerful in your acceptance speeches, Dixie Chicks? You would have come off a lot better as a whole. Seriously. You looked like kick-ass songwriters, musicians, and performers during the song, but you just were kind of clownin' during the speeches and clearly I am probably more bothered by this than I should be. (As for Brothers and Sisters, I think Rob Lowe and Calista Flockhart are very good actors who handle their witty repartee very well dialogue-wise but there needs to be more repartee and less kissing. It is wholly un-chemistry-producing and not believable. That said, I maintain that this show gets better every week and I am so excited to see Emily VanCamp join the cast in next week's episode that it's bonkers.)

Last night I watched This Film Is Not Yet Rated, which I definitely recommend.

The best news I have is that Mary Chapin Carpenter has a new album coming out on March 6, and Anne Lamott has a new book coming out on March 20. I cannot wait, I cannot wait, I cannot wait.

Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, well fine

There are a couple of new thirtysomething episodes up at YouTube. Post-Op, which is not one of my favorites, and Happy New Year, which totally IS. And as a bonus, it features Louis DiMucci as Peter Montefiore (singing, no less). A really excellent episode all around, really, with tons going on with each character. The perfect combination of grown-ups and kids, quiet and loud, happy and sad. With a little James Joyce thrown in for good measure. It is really strange, watching it again, how familiar it is, how I can recite so many of the lines. I have really spent an inordinate number of hours in my life watching thirtysomething. And my life has been all the better for it! I swear.

American Experience: New Orleans airs Monday night on PBS. Check your local listings for times. I've never seen an American Experience I didn't like, and I have high hopes for this one.

I enjoyed reading Pajiba's take on the best tearjerking moments of recent years. I think I've seen all of the ones they list. I'll have to think about my own favorite tearjerking moments. I was glad to see In America mentioned because I loved that movie, but when watching the scene again, I was reminded that I didn't really get the last line. I still don't.

Anyway. I don't really know what else to say. It looks like I have a leak in my plumbing line, probably somewhere underneath my driveway. Next week the estimates from plumbers will begin. I don't want to blow all my savings on it. It can't be cheap to rip out a plumbing line and put in a new one and re-pave a driveway JESUS CHRIST. My sister advised me to get a zero interest credit card and pay for it with that rather than wipe out my savings. She is a financial guru so I tend to heed her advice on such matters. I am choosing not to think about it until the weekend is over.

Now I must prepare to eat lots of bread and garlic spread.

Pretties

And here are a couple of recommendations.

Pretty song

I had What About Brian on the other night as I lay on the couch working on the computer. My ears caught sound of a song that I knew immediately that I was about to be in love with.

I googled a few of the lyrics and found the song. It's new to me, but it's an old song. It's called "Tomorrow Is a Long Time" and in iTunes there are tons of versions by people like Bob Dylan and Elvis Presley and Joan Baez. The one I heard on the show was by Nickel Creek. You can listen to a little snippet of it here, and you can hear the whole song from this NPR page after listening to a short commentary about the band.

I don't even think that What About Brian is a good show, but the scene that had the song was one when a mom/wife watches the dad/husband out of the window while he plays with their three young daughers on a pier. The husband and wife are getting a divorce, and they are struggling with whether or not to let the youngest daughter have an operation to try to restore her hearing. The woman gets so moved watching her estranged husband with the daughter that the tears well up and fall while this song plays in the background. Then my tears welled up and fell. And they have every time that I've listened to this song since. And believe me. It's been a lot of times.

I think that you should download the song immediately, but if you want to watch it in the context of the scene, you can find the episode here. (If you skip to Section 3 and then scroll to about 15:20 of that section, you can find it without watching the whole show.) It will be annoying because you'll have to watch an ad at the beginning of the section, but it really is a lovely scene.

Pretty clothes

I like this stuff. I'm particularly fond of the toddler t-shirts. But I'd kind of like one of everything.

Weekend update

I guess it's time for a weekend update. On Friday night, I drove to the city to have dinner with my boyfriend and his sister, who was visiting for the first time. We ate and ate and ate. Then we had gelato. Then we played Scrabble. The next morning, we had brunch and took a walk on the levee. The weather over the end of last week and the early weekend was unbelievable. Sunny and in the 70s. Bliss. That night, Maryelizabeth and I attended the wedding of J., whom we befriended in Latin class our sophomore year of high school. It's strange to think we've known him for 17 years. How is that possible? What the hell?! Then boy, now man, now husband, always friend. Life is crazy. He seems happy, and it was fun for Maryelizabeth and me to have a night out as each other's dates.

I got up on Sunday and headed outside for my first nine-mile run. It was no longer sunny and blissful. It was mostly grey, but it was still pretty warm. The first 4.5 miles were okay. Knowing that I'd planned the route to stop by my house to speed-pee and down some Powerade at the half-way mark was definitely psychologically helpful. My break clocked in at under two minutes, and then I hit the streets again. By about mile seven or eight, I started to seriously dissociate and it took on the out of body experience feeling. My feet were killing me. But I just kept telling myself that it was nothing and that I was not allowed to quit. So I didn't, and I spaced out to the point where I had to remind myself to watch out for cars. I could barely walk for the rest of the day, but I did it. I had a massage yesterday, and that was glorious. It felt like such a gift to my body. I asked her to spend extra time on my glutes and hips because they're wound up so tight that it's painful and I can't seem to stretch them very well, and my only complaint about the massage is that instead of doing deep tissue work with her hands like I'd hoped, she karate-chopped my butt and hips with her elbows. Other than that, it was decadent and very enjoyable.

I finished Letting Go of God, and I thought it was great. It made me laugh and think and was very moving at times. It brought me back to my childhood and my Catholic education in ways that I can't even articulate at the moment. Like Julia Sweeney, my memories of being raised Catholic and going to Catholic school are really mostly positive. I laughed and laughed at her memories and her re-exploration of the tenets of the faith and the Bible as an adult. She really did a brilliant job with this, I think. I liked it so much that I just ordered another monologue of hers called In the Family Way.

Last night, we gathered at my parents' with Thai take-out to celebrate my mom's birthday. As usual, there was much football talk. They weighed in on their opinions; my parents seem to think he did his job here and we can't begrudge him his desire to succeed somewhere else, no matter where it is; my brother's girlfriend said she doesn't care what he does but is disgusted by the way he leaves other people to clean up his messes; my little brother could do nothing but turn red, shake his head, and mutter, "Judas."

In other football news, people are so excited about the Saints that you can feel this sort of underlying hysteria boiling underneath the surface that could explode at any moment. Everyone's disappointed that we're playing in Chicago instead of in the Dome, but my little brother observed that so insane would be the experience in New Orleans that sheer mutiny might break out and maybe it's for the best that the city is not subjected to that at this time. But who knows? I fear the effect of the snow and cold on our players, but my dad said in his way that is somehow both steely and rabid, as he stabbed at his pad Thai, something like, "Do you think our guys, knowing they are playing for the Super Bowl, will be cold? They will be on fire." Awesome. (And by the way, Anonymous, did you really think I would post your rude comment about the Saints? Maybe if you'd left your name, but of course you didn't. Give me a break.)

The weather is now ass. I know I've no room to complain compared to what the rest of the country has gone through this winter and what still lies ahead, but I can't deal with the high temperature of the day being in the 30s and rain, rain, rain, rain, rain for days on end, which is what we're facing this week. It makes me unspeakably morose and yet again I wonder how my sister and Shelley can survive in the northeast without taking permanently to their beds. I was so in love with my bed this morning that I thought, "I could stay in you all day. I really could. I have never been so warm and comfortable. Flannel sheets are the world's best invention. Bed. Love. I love you, my bed. Love love love. I never want to leave you. You are my soulmate." But I got up and shivered through my cereal and bundled up and headed out. Again, I know this is faux winter to many, but it's winter to me, and I hate it.

I was so glad when Ugly Betty won the Golden Globe, and I cried when America Fererra did. I think it's great that everyone seems to be talking about what a great message this show has in terms of people, especially women, having more to offer the world than what they look like, but I wish that more people were talking about how this show is a lot more than that "message." It's really mostly just highly entertaining and completely hilarious. I saw Michael Urie, who plays Mark, who I think is my favorite character, on The View recently, and he was so delightful. (I love this photo of him and Becki Newton, who so deliciously plays Amanda, posing in character.) This is a great show, but don't be put off by the reports that it's all about some kind of sociological moral. It's also sweet and funny and over-the-top and I love it.

Do It for Jason!

Running's been tough lately. Tougher than usual, even. Sometimes I wonder why I keep doing something that is fundamentally not enjoyable to me. I keep telling myself that the training is its own reward and that I've come too far to quit now. Thankfully, Friday Night Lights came on during my run last night, and it's so damn inspirational to me that it makes me feel like I could run forever. I tell myself, "Don't you think Jason Street would like to be running right now? Get over yourself!" and other such ridiculous statements of the pep talk variety.

I was home for the second half of the episode and was startled to find tears exploding from my eyes not once, but twice. Incidentally, Pajiba just named it the best new show of the season. I don't always agree with Pajiba -- they inexplicably liked Brick, for example -- but they got this one right. I love this show. You can still watch every episode online, but that will probably go away soon. (Note: I wrote recently that Bright Eyes' cover of "Devil Town" by Daniel Johnston appeared on this show. I thought it was Bright Eyes because that's what the closed captioning said. But it turns out that it was Tony Lucca doing a cover of Bright Eyes' cover.)

In other news, I like the song "How to Save a Life" by the Fray. (You can watch the video here. And the Grey's Anatomy version of the video here.) I'm a little sick of it at this point, but I still listen to it if it should come on the radio, which, let's face it, it does all day long. The only problem is that there is some kind of chimey sound in the song that is identical to my cell phone ring so I can't listen to the song without thinking my cell phone is ringing down in the bottom of my purse. Even if I remind myself emphatically as the song starts, "That is not going to be your phone ringing, it's the song," I always think it's my phone ringing. It is kind of maddening and makes me feel like I'm going crazy.

Also, I have been a lifetime lover of snack mix. I excitedly explained to Shelley each of the ingredients in this snack mix, which I just discovered at the grocery store. (Pretzel sticks, pretzel twists, melba rounds, cheese nips, Crispix, and Quaker Oat Squares.)

She sighed, satisfied, then said, "Someone knows who you are. And what you needed."

I'm not sure how we got on the topic, but recently we were reminiscing about our once-fervent love for Michael W. Smith. We went an Amy Grant concert with our moms and my sister in the eighth grade, and he was the opening act. We thought he was just dynamite back then. And ... here he is. In all of his vesty, denimy, mullety glory.

Random

This is going to be a post of randomness.

Another thirtysomething episode has been added on YouTube, blessedly. It's "Second Look," otherwise known as one of the best and saddest episodes ever on television. So if you need a good honking cry, have at it. (An interesting old article about Nancy's cancer storyline can be found here.)

Here's a Sheriff Seth Bullock Alert: He's appearing in a movie called Catch and Release starring Jennifer Garner. I am a sucker for both Jennifer Garner and Sheriff Seth Bullock, so I'm sure I will end up seeing it even though once again I have to state my hatred of trailers that give away the entire movie.

This amused me deeply.

I've really been enjoying Cold Feet on DVD, and I'm all set to start season three, but I'm bummed to discover that seasons four and five aren't even available on DVD. So I'll have to stop mid-series. Which is frustrating. I could buy them used from the UK, but they wouldn't play in my DVD player. Piss.

Much suffering in human life results
from a fruitless attempt
to retain a note that has
already ceased to sound
or to anticipate a note
that has yet sounded.
I found this quote in a little plastic table card rack at lunch the other day, handwritten beneath a drawing on another card. I liked it, so I wrote it down on a takeout menu. Supposedly it's from a book called The Theory of Conscious Harmony by Robert Collin. The only place I can find it online is on a single MySpace page of an 18-year-old. So it might be made up or misquoted. I have no idea.

I like it.

I've been won over by The Office (U.S.), okay, it only took me a few years. I really like it, and I really like reading Jenna/Pam's blog. I've also decided that other than The Office, the best sitcom on television is How I Met Your Mother. I like it more every week, and last night's made me laugh out loud. Especially the way that Barney says, "Uh, dance?" And in case you missed it the first time, this remains one of the best talk show appearances ever by anyone.

I can't stop going to the memorial site set up for Helen Hill. I can't stop reading about her and her family and what a wonderful person she was and how many people's lives she touched. I did not know her, but the stories of her life and death are filling me with both inspiration and despair. My boyfriend told me this afternoon that there is much to be happy about and thankful for even in this messed up world, and I am trying hard to remember that.

(Photo by B.)

Many waters

Many waters
Originally uploaded by Elizalou.

This is what my backyard looks like right now.

I'm not really sure what is causing this flooding as it only started raining last night. In six and a half years, I have never seen my backyard fill with this much water. It's kind of scary.

I just got back from running 8 miles at the gym. My plans to run outdoors were obviously thwarted by the weather.

It was difficult, but I was definitely helped along by songs from a new running mix I got for Christmas and the Friday Night Lights marathon on Bravo. There's nothing to keep my sad, slow ass chugging along like seeing Coach Taylor yell at his players as they ran wind sprints through the mud and rain, "Champions don't complain! Champions never quit!"

I can't believe that tomorrow is New Year's Eve.

Yes, my name is Johnny Wishbone

Another weekend gone by. On Friday night, I drove to the big city, ate a spinach salad with walnuts and feta and red onions and raspberry dressing, and watched a little bit of An Evening with Kevin Smith before we had to turn it off. I like Kevin Smith, but I do not like shots of overly enthusiastic fans in any kind of video. Music concert, lecture series, whatever. Spare me the extended footage of audience members applauding, "woo!"-ing, guffawing. Hate.

On Saturday morning, it was off to the French bakery for a muffin and croissant. We bought a Christmas tree and went to split the planet's best barbeque shrimp po-boy. We went to the mall, which was hellish, of course, to buy a gift card for the intern at my office who's graduating, then to Border's, then to meet my parents for coffee but not really because they got stuck in traffic and didn't make it, and started a game of Scrabble before heading out to dinner, where the wait was long despite reservations but the food was very good. The house salad was especially tasty, as was the butternut shrimp bisque, into which I dipped much bread.

The next morning we went out for Christmas lights and put them on the tree and I headed home around lunchtime and set out for my supposed six-mile run which ended up being a 3.5-mile run. I was having a hard time and kept slowing down and slowing down until I realized, "Hey, I'm walking." I kept on walking and didn't finish the run. It might have been the heat or running outside again after a two-week stint running indoors or the fact that mentally I knew that I'd already run 6 miles the Sunday before. I don't know. It was the first time in all of this training that it was body over mind and I was upset about it at first but have now let it go and plan on running my 19 miles this week come hell or high water.

Alert. Alert! Bravo is airing the first ten episodes of Friday Night Lights, marathon style, on Saturday, December 30. My evangelism relative to this show is perhaps growing tiresome but I don't care.

And here's another alert: You can watch three episodes of thirtysomething on YouTube now. I have done searches for this show since forever and now look, there they are: "Separation," the episode when Nancy and Elliot separate; "Legacy," the episode when Michael and Elliot's plane almost crashes so Michael and Hope start drawing up a will, Nancy and Elliot are getting back together, and so forth; and "Mr. Right," the episode when Melissa and Ellyn do video dating, Ethan has to kiss Cinderella in the school play, and Melissa meets Lee. Excellence all around. I now see that you can buy this show on DVD here and here, both of which might be sketchy as the show has never been officially issued on DVD. I'm thinking of buying it from the first link; is that insane?

I caught part of Eddie Murphy on Inside the Actors Studio tonight and was reminded of how often my brother, sister, and I used to watch the first two Beverly Hills Cop movies when we were young. I remember how hard they made my brother laugh. For having parents so holy, we sure did watch a lot of filth. I think the trick is having holy parents who can still find amusement in the likes of Axel Foley.

A Thrill of Hope

Okay, people. You can now watch every Friday Night Lights episode online. You have no excuse anymore. If you've missed it, you can catch up on the entire series. You won't be sorry! It's so good. You can also read Drunken Bee's excellent recaps for additional catching up. I am telling you. This show is enjoyable on every possible level. I could not love it more.

You can also download a beautiful version of O Holy Night that was played by Trombone Shorty and others here. If you want to watch the clip from Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip where it was played, you can do so here. If you want to read more about how this all happened, you can do so here.

What else? Last week, it was in the twenties every morning when I woke up. That is no way to live. I can't stand the cold, I hate it, it makes me feel miserable and completely paralyzed. Thankfully it was 74 degrees today and even though I was inside working it was comforting to know. I've been working a lot, running a lot, and eating a lot of Hershey's kisses. I ran four miles on Saturday and six miles on Sunday and four miles last night and somehow this is just sort of my life now. I'm still going just about as slowly as a person can go and pass from walking to running but am trying not to care about that. Meanwhile, I've never been the sort of person with a bowl of candy on her desk at work because I knew I'd sit there and eat the candy all day long but now I am and I do. Hershey's kisses. All day, every day.

Tonight I had a threeway call with my little brother and sister. It was enjoyable. My little brother called to announce that he's done with finals and had just had a conversation with my parents during which he proclaimed his rather unconventional post-college plans, to which they responded surprisingly positively. He was laughing hysterically while telling me this so I called my sister so he could tell her, too. We talked about that and about how we are proud of him and happy for his excitement, and of course the conversation turned to Friday Night Lights. "I love it so much," I said. "Yeah," he said, "My friends and I just sit around when it's over saying we can't believe how good it is." We agreed that Lyla is the weak link but that she is growing on us. We also agreed that we love the coach and the entire coach family and that Mrs. Coach is the hottest mom on television. My brother said, "They are the best couple ever." Which amused me very much. I mean, clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose. I wonder if one day that will become totally cheesy and awful to me. Right now it's sort of cheesy but not at all awful. I love this show, and I love that my siblings love it, too. I know my older brother would like it if he watched it. I hardly ever talk to him these days, which is sad.

Christmas will be here soon. Everyone is coming home, and that makes me very happy. My sister will be here, my little brother is graduating from college, and Shelley is coming. I'm looking forward to a lot of eating and gifting and hot chocolate drinking and loving.

Haul Out the Holly

I'm sitting here at the coffee shop on a spectacularly beautiful afternoon. Looking back, I've mentioned the Broadway Cares: Home for the Holidays CD (that Melissa sent me a few years ago, God love her) several times before, but I'm not sure I've stated emphatically enough that everyone needs to have it. Every song on it isn't perfect, but the ones that are -- they are breathtaking. Liz Callaway and Ann Hampton Callaway, Christine Ebersole, Lillias White, and Audra McDonald, you are breathtaking. And Patrick Wilson, no song in recent years gets me more in the Christmas spirit than your exuberant, joyful, wonderful rendition of "We Need a Little Christmas." We do, Patrick. We do.

It's been a lovely week, really, since returning from vacation. Thanksgiving was nice, if on a smaller scale than in past years due to Katrina having wiped out our previous stomping grounds of every Thanksgiving I can remember since birth. After gorging ourselves on turkey and everything that goes with it, my boyfriend attended this event for the first time, and it was very cool.

This weekend, we went out to dinner on Friday night. I had shrimp and pineapple and vegetables over rice and he had a vermicelli salad with sugar cane-skewered shrimp. We went to the farmer's market on Saturday morning, having breakfast pizza and grits and a biscuit. We went to Best Buy and fooled around with some digital cameras, went out to lunch, wandered around the mall, played a game of Scrabble where he came close to breaking 500 points for the love of God, and went to see the matinee of Stranger than Fiction, which far exceeded my expectations and which I enjoyed completely. Then it was time for Thai take-out and the rental of The DaVinci Code, which basically bit the big one. We also finally finished Big Love, and I am looking forward to season two.

This morning was coffee and muffins and I went on a 4.5-mile run, completing week 3 of half-marathon training. Running continues to be bitterly difficult, but I am forcing myself to soldier on. The only things I like about it are listening to good music, having some good thinking time, and feeling afterwards like I've accomplished something. I'm still totally taking it mile by mile, run by run. I try to focus on the breeze and the beauty of being outside, but mostly I think, "Ugh, I hate this," as men, women, and children smoke me one after one. I try to tell myself that it's okay to be slow and steady. I'm not quitting, I swear to God, I am not quitting.

While driving home from Thanksgiving, I listened to the soundtrack of The Sound of Music in its entirety. It was strange to realize that as I listened and sang along to every word, a sort of DVD commentary was running through my mind, only instead of being like the director or actors talking about making the movie, it was my own memory talking to itself about what it was like to grow up watching the movie. During "I Have Confidence," I remembered how I would act out the song by swinging rectangular couch cushions around as my version of Maria's suitcase and guitar. I remembered how Liesl and Brigitta's voices were always my favorites. During "My Favorite Things," I remembered how I always wished I could have bed covers as thick and miraculous as Maria's beautiful gold comforter that seemed to stand three feet tall when folded over. How my mom always cried with Captain von Trapp appeared and sang, "I go to the hills when my heart is lonely," and when Maria took over for him when he couldn't get through "Edelweiss" without crying himself. How before we had a VCR and only watched it on its yearly TV airing, I always fell asleep before the end, and how I felt like I got kicked in the stomach the first time I saw Rolf say, "Lieutenant, they're here!" I love this movie forever for always.

I'm reading The Thirteenth Tale right now, but I'm having trouble getting through it. I think it's because the last book I read was Behind the Scenes at the Museum and I loved it so much that whatever follows it is just going to suffer in comparison. I would almost rather read it again than anything else, that's how much I loved it. Last night when we were at the bookstore, I had to stop myself from buying every Kate Atkinson book on the shelf.

And now it is getting chilly, and I must leave.

Tell me what your favorite holiday CD is if you have one to recommend.

Weekend

Favorite
Originally uploaded by Elizalou.

Ah. Weekends.

Friday night, I drove to the big city, dined on sushi takeout and hazelnut gelato (thinking of Kymm and our virtual milkshake date), and watched part of the pilot Big Love before deciding that I'd rather go to sleep than see Bill Paxton's bare buttcheeks again. Saturday morning, it was to the French bakery for an apple turnover and almond croissant and to my favorite store for various cards. We went to lunch at the home of the world's perfect barbeque shrimp po-boy. They hollow out the bread and shove shrimp inside until they are overflowing in their buttery, peppery sauce of sensationalness. Lots of moaning accompanies the eating of this po-boy. I think it might be one of the best things I have ever eaten.

Lunch was followed by Scrabble on the front porch. We were neck and neck, but my boyfriend came out on top. I think it was 340-something to 330-something in the end. The afternoon included a coffee run, a short siesta, and the ordering of shrimp pesto pizza. That night my boyfriend's band had a gig, and they were awesome. I stayed up until 2 in the morning for the first time in I can't even remember when.

We ended up watching the first two episodes of Big Love before the weekend is over, and I like it so far, Bill Paxton's too frequently exposed hiney notwithstanding. After coming home on Sunday, I did a huge grocery shopping trip and ran 4 miles. It was not easy after the late night, but I pulled it off somehow. I took a long bubble bath, lay on the couch under a blanket with the kitties, read Gilead, made some rice-a-roni, and basically passed out.

And that was my weekend.

I'm happy to report that you can buy my favorite brand of cards in the world online. You can find them at All Posters. Which is swell. But they're expensive there and it's not that easy because you have to scroll through other cards that are completely sucky. Like this weird one with some mice on it. But I was overjoyed to discover that you can also buy a value pack of them here. Mine arrived today, and they're designs I've never seen before in a store or for sale on another site. I don't care that they require 13 cents of extra postage because of the square envelope or that my post office lady fusses at me every time because it's such a headache for her. I adore every last one of them.

It's coldish and rainy and icky here tonight. I hope the sun comes out tomorrow. I guess everyone hopes that. My friend with whom I shared a love for Annie in childhood that remains strong today has a nearly three-year-old daughter who is now getting into the movie. That kills me on about every level possible.

:::

About this time in ...

2005

11/1:

And then you can walk past some very stinky refrigerators sealed up with duct tape and some people sitting on their front porches with their dogs on probably the cutest Uptown street you've ever seen to that old pizza place your sister took you to and you can wave away the flies and eat some damn good pizza with four different kinds of cheese on top. And in this little way, life is goes on.

2004

11/2:

My respect for my parents is infinite, and no election will ever change that, and I was pleased that none of his reasons was simply listed as "TERRORISTS" or "THE LORD!"

2003

11/6:

I was just watching my brother and I was so proud of him that I clapped fervently and cheered after every song like a complete dork, sloshing my Miller Lite onto my matriarchal sandals.

2000

11/1:

Somehow, in my life, it's a song that has never gone out of style. Out of date. I guess its theme is similar to my theme. Which is probably just sad.

Heart Like the Sea

For the past month or so, I've run exclusively outside. I like the trees, the clouds, the birds, and all that naturey goodness. It's harder on the feet and joints and everything, but it's so pleasant. I especially enjoy running past an old lady and her poodle who never appears without a folded up umbrella in his mouth. Even on sunny, clear days. I guess he just likes to carry it. I don't know how he really pants properly with his mouth closed, but they seem to have a system going. I try to imagine Daisy or Zuko performing a duty with such obedient efficiency and I have to laugh. This morning I got up early and went to the gym to run two miles, and it was sheer misery. I was sweating like a lunatic, there was no air circulating in the room, and it was like running through stagnant muck. Even watching Angel didn't help. I dread having to run in there during my half-marathon training and will avoid it if at all possible.

I am still really liking Gilead. And can I please just take a moment to speak again about Friday Night Lights? This show is so good. As much as I love my other shows, it's so damn refreshing to watch something that's not set on an island or in space and that isn't about solving mysteries or heavy on the camp. It's just about real people in a real town. I can't even tell you. I love it so much. If it is canceled, I will be sorely, bitterly sad about it. Clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose. When reading those words on the page they sound so cheesy but when the coach said, "Clear eyes, full hearts," to Jason Street as he lay in that damn bed last night and Jason said, "Can't lose," I wanted to sob. Maybe I even did sob a little bit. If you're not watching this show, you are missing out.

Tonight I watched The Making of Miss Saigon. And let me tell you -- enjoyable. From the auditions, to hearing the composer and lyricists bang out the songs and attempt to sing them instructively for the cast (that is always hilarious to me for some reason), to when the company all sits down together for the first time and introduces themselves, to the initial rehearsals, to all of the technical stuff like the lighting and the sets and the props, to Jonathan Pryce clapping his hands in the middle of a number to yell that some piece of the set was moving and being totally pissed off about it, to listening to the super-powerful chorus as they practiced "This Is The Hour" and having my TV speakers nearly blow up with the awesomeness, to being reminded how much I did not like the original Chris or Ellen, to director Nicholas Hytner completely flipping out and screaming that they had a f*cking show to open -- fantastic! It doesn't touch at all on the Jonathan Pryce controversy (a Welsh actor playing an Asian character), surprisingly, but it's still a mighty fine behind the scenes look at the show. I can't really form an opinion on the allowing of Jonathan Pryce to play the Engineer when he is clearly as caucasian as you can get and that seems really ridiculous -- there is something so brilliantly riveting about his every move, gesture, and sound that I am blind to any opinion except that he is perfect. I realize that might be very wrong of me. Anyway, I wish there were documentaries like this for every musical ever made.

Oh, my God. It's too good to be true. I loved this show with my entire seventh grade heart.

T is for Tami Maida

Lately when I can't sleep I make a little list in my head of A-Z for some of my favorite television shows. Last night was Felicity. I don't remember the whole list as I was slightly delirious and only partly awake. A was for Abrams, B was for Ben, C was for Chad Mulcahy (who got hit by a bus), D was for Dean & Deluca, E was for Elena, F was for Felicity, G was for Greg (the gross guy Felicity dated in season two), and H was for Hey. Of course. Usually I can never get to the end of the alphabet before falling back to sleep. I always get stuck on Q. I couldn't think of a P last night so I came up with Planned Parenthood, which had to like the episode where Felicity fought for the morning after pill. So far I've also done Battlestar (A is for Apollo, B is for Baltar, C is for Cylon, D is for Dualla, E is for Ellen Tigh, F is for Frak, etc.) and My So-Called Life (A is for Angela, B is for Brian, C is for Crimson Glow, D is for Danielle, E is for Enrique Vasquez, etc.) It's somehow comforting to know that I could do this night after night and never actually run out of favorite shows.

Lately I've been obsessed with searching for Grinkov and Gordeeva footage on YouTube. I used to watch My Sergei and sob and sob. They sure skated beautifully together.

Remember the recent Grey's Anatomy when Derek was doing the surgery to cut the guy's brain in half so he wouldn't have seizures anymore? Was I the only one who immediately flashed back to the TV movie where Patrick Dempsey himself played the young man who wanted to have the brain-in-half surgery to stop his seizures? That was such a great TV movie! (At least when I was 11.)

It was almost as good as the one where the teenager was going in for a heart transplant and sang cheerfully as he was being wheeled away, "I left my heart in San Francisco ..." which I can't find or remember the name of and it's driving me CRAZY.

Or the one where Mary Stuart Masterson was a pregnant teenager with cancer and decided not to be treated so the baby could live and she died at the end.

OR the one when teen mother Nancy McKeon gave her baby up for adoption to Lindsay Wagner and then decided she wanted the baby back, and the judge said that blood is thicker than water and gave the baby back to her! That one made me so sad back in the day. It seemed so wrong ... Lindsay Wagner had been raising the kid for, like, two years! It makes me mad just thinking about it. It was very upsetting.

We also had repeat viewings of this baby-switching movie that was actually quite gut-wrenching. Of course they figured it all out and the boys ended up growing up together and being best friends.

I remember also being mildly obsessed with the one where Chad Lowe killed himself. (Available at Netflix!)

Also available at Netflix, another favorite that I loved so passionately that I prayed to God the evening it aired in 1983 that I would dream about it that night, and I did. I swear. High School USA with Nancy McKeon and Michael J. Fox. Ah, third grade dreams.

I have already gone on and on about how Love Is Never Silent was my all-time favorite TV movie, never to be surpassed.

Except of course possibly by Quarterback Princess.

I don't know what it was about the early 1980s, but apparently I spent a lot of time watching TV movies. Especially ones about Teens With Issues or Baby Woes. I think it must have been because I was just discovering the magic of the VCR and recorded a lot of what came on every night. Good times.

Weekend

It's early on Saturday morning. I couldn't sleep anymore so I got up and came outside to sit on my patio wrapped in a blanket. It's sixty degrees outside but feels like downright winter compared to the ninety-five of this week. The dogs are finding sunny patches of grass to wrestle in. Somewhere, church bells are ringing to mark the hour. The dog nextdoor who looks like Charlotte's Elizabeth Taylor is yapping. It's a pleasant time. Just waiting for my boyfriend to wake up. Making a playlist for this weekend's 45-minute run. I lay in bed awake last night stressing about it. The longest I've ever run is 38 minutes. I skipped last weekend's 41-minute run because we were out of town. I know I can do it. I put Tracy Chapman singing "Don't you know you better run run run run run run run run run run run ru-un?" on there for the first time. Tracy and this cool air will help me along, I think.

:::

Now it's Sunday evening. The dogs are chowing down on some treats. I'm back on the patio. It's cool again. The birds are chirping. The puppies in the next yard are frolicking. It's nice to be outside and to be alive.

I had my 45-minute run yesterday. It felt surprisingly easy. I didn't know if it was the beautiful day or being outside or what but it wasn't nearly as difficult as running inside on the treadmill is. We went back in the car to clock the mileage of my route and it was 3.15 miles. Which explains why it didn't feel so difficult. Because I was taking, like, 15 minutes to run each mile. Which feels sort of pathetic, but it also felt great. I wasn't straining or feeling miserable. Maybe I should slow down on the treadmill, too. Who knows?

It was a nice, relaxing weekend. On Friday evening, we went to a restaurant written up in a local magazine to check it out. I'm glad to know there is such a restaurant (authentic Latin American food, not Tex-Mex) in town, but I don't think we'll be going back. It wasn't so tasty. On Saturday morning, we split an apple cinnamon scone and a blueberry muffin and went to the library. We played Scrabble outside at the coffee shop. I broke 300, and he scored ridiculously higher than that as usual. We checked out several Yucatan travel guides at the library, so I pored over those during the game. One of the books came with a map so we studied it and tried to figure out our route and how many nights we'll stay in each place and so forth. I'm really looking forward to it. (We're only spending one night in Cancun and want to stay somewhere fancy. Does anyone have any experience there with the Ritz, Le Meridien, J.W. Marriott, or the Fiesta Americana Grand Coral Beach?) For dinner, we got Thai take-out and then watched Thank You for Smoking. Which was good but not great. Katie Holmes was highly irritating. Joanie Stubbs was unrecognizable.

This morning, it was another scone and another muffin and the Sunday paper and last night's Ebert and Roeper, featuring a shockingly annoying guest reviewer. Richard Roeper possibly tried but ultimately failed to disguise his contempt for her idiocy. (Speaking of guest hosts, folks at The View, please do not hire Shon Gables full-time. She is very unlikeable. Her questions to Meg Tilly were jarring and downright insulting. She talks too much and comes across as totally fake. Bad move, The View! Please.)

This afternoon, I trimmed a bunch of bushes outside in the yard and scrubbed bathtub grout. It was not so fun. Then I watched Sorry Haters, which was disturbing but very good. Sometimes I can't believe how talented an actress Princess Buttercup turned out to be.

Oh, and Battlestar Galactica! Of course we watched the season premiere. (To follow: nothing super spoilery, but it's vaguely spoilery.) I am really having trouble not laughing every time Fat Apollo's giant head appears onscreen. I thought the season premiere was great. It's a big adjustment, though. The show has changed so much since the beginning. I'm not really used to the beards, the bloat, and all of the changes. I still love it, though, and I'm so glad to be finally watching it on actual TV for the first time.

I must now retire and read Introducing ... Sasha Abramowitz.

Far too much television

I loved this theme song. I loved it so much that I used it as the background music for the end a montage of photos and video footage I made at the end of one of my high school retrospective videos, created in the melancholy of graduation when most of my friends were moving away. I could still totally cry watching those videos if I ever watched them anymore. Great TV show theme song. GREAT. I wish I could find out who sang this. And I've got to figure out how to get those videos on DVD before they disintegrate.

And ... here are my thoughts on Friday Night Lights. I didn't mean to watch this show. But my friend and I canceled an ice cream date because we were both too tired and surly to deal with it, so I flopped on the couch after coming inside from mowing the backyard and flipped on the TV and there it was. And it was so good in, like, the first five seconds. It was exciting and funny and tense and the performances were so natural and easy that it was sort of amazing. It was all just so deliciously, scrumptiously, authentically Southern. (I know some people argue that Texas isn't the South, and maybe it isn't in some ways. But it definitely seems to be the South when it comes to football.) The quarterback's girlfriend bugged me a little bit, but other than that, I think this show's cast is mighty fine, especially Connie Britton, whom I've always liked, as the coach's wife. And Kyle Chandler (whom I've liked since Homefront) as the coach could not be more perfect. I'm definitely going to watch it again. They're re-airing the pilot this week on USA, NBC, and Bravo, so try to catch it if you can.

I also watched The Lake House. I'm not sure what possessed me to rent this. I have such affection for The Time Traveler's Wife and for time travel stories in general. (One of my favorite projects in graduate school was a paper / presentation I did on multicultural time travel stories in young adult literature.) And I'm not sure that the time travel issues in this movie made any sense, but I decided that was okay because when do they, really? I haven't seen Keanu Reeves be this good since, well, ever, and it was just a pretty movie to look at -- all of the shots of Chicago and the amazing lake house itself. It was cheesy and ridiculous but really kind of romantic and sweet.

I missed the Veronica Mars premiere because my TiVo still had it programmed for a channel it's not on anymore, but luckily I was able to watch it online. It was enjoyable. It certainly has to be better than last season, which I think was kind of a mess from start to finish. I loved it so much its first year that I'm not ready to give up yet. I think this premiere was definitely promising. And I love Tina Majorino. It's weird to see her all grown up, though. I still remember her so well as the little girl in Corina Corina and the older daughter in When a Man Loves a Woman and how she made me sob when crying and yelling in the park to Andy Garcia, "I want my mom, I want my mom!" (Horrible title notwithstanding, I will totally sit down and watch this movie whenever I catch it on cable. Is that weird? It's depressing but somehow really good.)

Lost. This show exhausts me. I don't know how long I can stick with it. I love the characters (the old ones, anyway, the original ones), and of course I want to know what the deal is and what is going on, but it's just not as interesting to me now that they're being locked in cages and are obviously mice in some large experiment. I have always liked Elizabeth Mitchell so it's nice to see her again, but I think that watching this show every week might just be too frustrating. I don't really want to see any more flashbacks. I just want to know what's going on and how they're going to get away.

And ... The View. I'm still enjoying it because Rosie is awesome, Elisabeth seems to be loosening up somewhat (even though she is clearly still crazy), and it's got some good guests. As for the guest hosts who seem to be auditioning for a permanent slot, I think that Audra McDonald and Deborah Roberts have easily been the best. The woman from Dancing with the Stars was not very good. I have a total blind soft spot for Audra McDonald and would love to see her get the gig if only because I fantasize that she will occasionally get to sing like she did recently when her rendition of "It's Not Easy Being Green" left me in tears. And since we're talking about Audra McDonald, you can watch the performance of the Ragtime cast on the Tony Awards here. And it is awesome. I love Ragtime so much. (It won best book, best orchestrations, best score, and of course Audra won -- but did it win best musical? No. No, it did not. I loved The Lion King as much as the next person, but that it beat Ragtime for best musical is still very bad and wrong.) If you watch that clip, the part when they start sort of stomping their feet on the beat of the part when they sing "it was the music of something beginning, an era exploding, a century spinning, in riches, in rags, and in rhythm and rhyme" -- that part makes me very happy.

I just thought of another show! God. I guess I've been watching more TV than I thought. I watched Ugly Betty. And I'm just not sure. America Ferrera is outstanding, and I want to see her succeed, but I don't know if I could take the camp week after week of all of the nonsense around her.

Youtube is sort of awesome. This one's for my sister. And Melissa, Brian d'Arcy James' other girlfriend.

Caulking Chaos

I watched Six Degrees last week; I won't watch it again. I found it irritating even though I really like Jay Hernandez, Hope Davis, and especially Campbell Scott. Brothers and Sisters didn't do it for me at all, so I'm also scratching that one off the list.

It's strange how little TV I'm watching this season. Studio 60 (I liked it A LOT), Veronica Mars when it starts, Gray's Anatomy, The Office, and Battlestar Galactica when it starts. Oh, and I'm still recording and watching The View every day just because Rosie makes me happy. I've found that watching really good TV makes me much less tolerant of TV that falls short of my judgment of what's excellent. You know? After barreling through the second half of season two of Battlestar, I'm thinking about it so much that last night I dreamt that Lee Adama got onstage drunk and sang "Shiksa Goddess" from The Last Five Years. It's penetrated my psyche in that deep and bizarre a way. (Don't read the rest of this paragraph if you don't want to be spoiled.) There were a few episodes in this batch that I thought were downright lame (especially the one about Apollo and the hooker) (and I wasn't crazy about the one about Scar) (and don't even get me started on my intense dislike of the Apollo / Dualla "relationship"), but there were parts that knocked my socks off. I lay on the couch and wept during the scene described here. Tears dripped off my face onto the throw pillow. It was just one of the finest things I've ever seen. I LOVE THIS SHOW. And I cannot wait for October 6.

I had a lot on my plate this weekend. My boyfriend worked each day, so I vowed to be productive. Friday night, I cleaned my house and went grocery shopping. On Saturday morning, I took my filthy dogs to the vet for a bath, went shopping for do-it-myself supplies, went on my "long" run for the week (38 minutes around the neighborhood), picked up the dogs, and prepared dinner. He arrived, and we went to the coffee shop and had muffins, coffee, a walnut rugelach, and some frozen lemonade and played a game of Scrabble during which he almost broke 400 points and I broke 300, so it was a good game. That night, we ate this pasta and this salad, and YUM. (Note: I made the pasta sauces in advance as suggested; I only used one tablespoon of chile paste in the pasta instead of two and it was still very spicy; I used orange juice concentrate instead of Grand Marnier because a bottle of it costs $35; the salad dressing is extremely thick, but do not be frightened; and I toasted the almonds first because I think that brings out their flavor much more. Both were great recipes, I thought.) We went out to a show that night where there were lots of young manorexic boys with beards and tight t-shirts and ate vanilla ice cream with strawberries and white chocolate macadamia nut cookies.

On Sunday, I re-caulked my bathtub. Which was my do-it-myself project to end all do-it-myself projects. My old caulk was nothing short of disgusting, and I figured, how hard could it be? I'll tell you how hard it was. It was very freaking hard. The old caulk was misery to scrape off despite using a gel that is erroneously labeled as a caulk "remover" (HA!), my weird carpal tunnely knuckle that had been doing so much better turned the size and color of a plum, and I probably did permanent damage to both the tile and the tub by scraping like a complete out of control lunatic. Once I scraped off all I could scrape (the caulk between the tub and the floor was particularly un-scrape-able because it was all mixed in with the cement grout of the ceramic floor tile -- horrible), I sprayed everything with Tilex, let that set for a while, and scrubbed everything with a toothbrush until I felt like all of my fingers were going to become dislocated. I let that dry for a few hours with a fan and then set forth with the caulking gun, thinking that nothing could be more difficult than the preparation. Right? Wrong. So very wrong.

I wanted only a very small hole in the top of the caulk tube, but I had to keep cutting it bigger and bigger in order to reach the top of the canister so it could be pierced with a nail. Even when using a really long nail, I had to go down so far that my hole, instead of being pencil-sized, was more like dime-sized. Yeah. It was so big that the caulk was flowing out of the tube when I wasn't even squeezing the gun, so I had to hold it between my legs upright and wipe it with a paper towel constantly or it would spew forth like a tube of toothpaste that was being stepped on. So much caulk gooped out when I was dispensing it around the tub that smoothing the line was just ... unholy. Nightmarish. I'm not even sure that I made good seals. I got silicone caulk all over myself, all over the tiles, all over the bathtub. I even got it on my glasses. And I forgot to fill the tub with water, which supposedly you're supposed to do, until I was almost finished. So I just filled it then and hoped for the best. In short, I've decided that time is more valuable than money and that I would have rather paid someone $1,000 to do this job and do it right, and then I could have spent my Sunday sitting at the coffee shop with my new book from the beautiful Grace that I already love instead of undertaking this monstrous project. Do-It-Myself -- I'm over it. Never again. Never again.

I finished All the King's Men, and it's exquisite. (No spoilers to follow.) It's wordy and sometimes rambly and takes a long time to get where it's going, but when it gets there, whoa. It's fantastic. It's strange because once I got really into it, I stopped thinking about how it's based on my state and true history and just got into it as a mighty fine book. This book is as much about ideas as it is about action, and I liked the ideas a lot. Jack Burden can be very annoying, and sometimes you just want to tell him to shut up and get to the point already, but the way he, as a narrator, contemplates life and goodness and sin and the past and the future is sublime. I highly recommend this book. It didn't win the Pulitzer Prize for nothing. (Read what the ever-wise mo pie thought about it here.) (Also spoiler-free.) I haven't seen the movie yet; the reviews have not been promising. Fred Willard, who was Roeper's guest reviewer this week, gave it two thumbs up, though! And if it's okay by Ron Albertson, it's probably okay by me.

(Here's a link to the article in The New Yorker profiling David Milch and featuring quite a bit about his relationship with Robert Penn Warren. In it, Milch says, "Mr. Warren spread out pretty much all the literary artifacts of American culture for me to study, as part of my working for him on that history of American literature. And in that I found the refraction, the perspective that I needed, to give me access to play the cards that I'd been dealt." Fascinating! Fascinating.)

As for running, I've come to my senses and have decided to forego training for a marathon and train for a half-marathon instead, along with a few friends. It still seems like an impossible distance for me right now, but it seems less impossible than a marathon would be. As my sister said wisely, half-marathon training doesn't take over your whole life like marathon training does, and the distance is a great achievement while still being short enough that it does not make you feel like dying when you are doing it. And I'm all for that. So ... I'm going to finish up one-hour-runner (I'm starting week 6 now) and then figure out when I should start officially training for the half-marathon. Woo! My mom, as she did when I told her I was training for a 5K, sort of laughed disbelievingly, like she was humoring me, like, "...okay. Good luck with that." Not in a mean way, just in an "I'm so sure, I'll believe it when I see it, for I know you, my lazy child," sort of a way. But I will show her! I will. I will show everyone. Most of all me.

Parks and Pie

Having now finished The Comeback, I can say without reservation that there must have been no better female performance, comic or otherwise, than Lisa Kudrow's on this show last season, and it is making me sit here and fume inwardly that she did not win every possible award for her brilliance. After getting over my initial discomfort both because of and on behalf of the lead character, much like I had to do with the BBC's The Office before falling head over heels in love with it, I came to really love this show. I grimaced, I put my hands over my face, I teared up, and I laughed belly laughs on multiple occasions. I definitely think it's worth it to stick with this show through the end, and I totally recommend it, if only to witness the teeth-gritting but somehow loving patience of Valerie's husband, the unforgettable punch in the gut, and Valerie's rendition of "I Will Survive," which made me laugh almost as hard as my original viewing of "Free Love on the Freelove Freeway" when Gareth and then Tim started doing their back-up harmonies (which you can watch here).

The weekend started Friday evening. Mellow. We ate sushi. There is something comforting in the predictable tastiness of a crunchy roll and a dumpling dipped in ponzu sauce.

We woke up early on Saturday morning. He headed to work, and I headed to the park to do my "long" run for the week -- 35 minutes. I hadn't been to this park in a long time. We took a walk in it on one of our first dates. Told some of our sad stories. My sister used to run in this park, so I kind of went in her honor. Even that early in the morning, the park was full of people. People running, people walking, people on roller skates, and people on bikes. Pushing babies in strollers, walking dogs. Sometimes I would get tired and want to quit running and then I'd come up on an old lady in a sun visor walking with a cane and I'd force myself to keep going. I walked to my car when cooling down and grabbed a bottle of water and my camera and walked around the park a little bit, panting and taking some pictures. It it a beautiful place.

Once the sweat had sufficiently dried (I know, gross), I went to the vet to buy his cat her food and to the bookstore to buy us each a copy of All the King's Men. I then went to the coffee shop and settled in with a vanilla iced coffee. I went upstairs where there weren't many people so I wouldn't stink up the joint too much. It's a highly cool building, and I like it very much even though the staff typically appears unshowered on the whole.

I read for a little while while a man behind me said, "Is that an old Mac or a new Mac? Is that an old Mac or a new Mac? Is that an old Mac or a new Mac?" I thought he must be on his cell phone with a bad connection, but finally I turned around when he said loudly, "EXCUSE ME MISS IS THAT AN OLD MAC OR A NEW MAC?" I said, "Are you talking to me?" He said yes. I said, "Uh, I got it in December, so I guess it's ... new?" (Showing what a dumbass I am about computers.) He assured me that it's not new, something about a processor, blah blah, then engaged me in a conversation about how I like my iBook and I said I love it and he said he's been using Macs since 1989. I just nodded and turned back to my coffee, and he said, "Spread the word!" So I guess he is just a major Mac lover or some kind of viral marketing operative sent to coffee houses by Apple. Who knows? Who knows.

Eventually we were reunited and headed to a family gathering at my cousin's apartment, where we ate Moroccan stew and lots of pie.

We tried to go to roller derby, but it was sold out, so we went to see The Last Kiss, bile about which I have already spewed.

On Sunday morning, we walked to the market for a newspaper and breakfast and once we parted ways, I headed home to go grocery shopping for the week, do two loads of laundry, and get my life in order. I'm looking forward to re-reading All the King's Men. I haven't read it since junior year of high school, when I did my big final paper in English on alienation and self-discovery in the novel. I don't remember it very well, and I guess that's okay considering that it was fourteen years ago. I know that my grandmother loved Robert Penn Warren a lot, and that's enough to make me want to love him, too.

(More park photos are here.)

New Beginning

Ah, yes. It was only a matter of time. My songs were "I Believe in a Thing Called Love," "Fame," "Pieces of Me," and "It's the End of the World as We Know It." Oddly, "Pieces of Me" was definitely the hardest. I can see why this game is like crack to many people. You don't really have to be able to keep up with the verses in the REM song as far as the words go -- as long as you can maintain the sort of monotone pitch.

I'm caught up on Battlestar Galactica. Now I'll just need to watch Season 2.5 when it comes out in two weeks. I am really sort of baffled by my love for this show. Sometimes it seems very stupid, but sometimes it's really great. Whoever cast Olmos & McDonnell is a genius. They are so excellent, especially McDonnell. She is brilliant. Sometimes watching this show gives me squeezing sensations in my chest. I even get anxious when bad things happen to characters I don't like. Or characters I shouldn't like -- but somehow I do. I like all of the tension -- civil government vs. the military, faith vs. science. This show makes my head hurt, but in a good way.

I just tried to watch about five minutes of Nip/Tuck, and it made me so uneasy that I had to turn it off. I don't know why it shocks me so much to see such graphic sex scenes on regular old TV, but it does. I flipped to TBS instead and watched the end of a Sex & the City episode I've seen a million times (the one where Carrie kisses Alanis). I just can't watch Nip/Tuck. It upsets me. I know that Rosie O'Donnell is guesting on it soon, but I don't think I can watch it even for her.

Speaking of Rosie, I've enjoyed her on The View this week. It's strange to see her in the role of talk show host in a format that's so different from how hers was. But she looks great. She looks happy.

This week I've gone to a Habitat meeting and officially started the hour running program. First I had to build myself back up to thirty minutes over the last two weeks. After the rubber band holding my hair in a ponytail popped open and flew off and I had to clumsily pull my hair back with a bandana, I made it through the first night of the program by the grace of Big Brother on the gym TV and good old "American Idiot."

Here's a link to an animal rescue organization sent to me by a reader who's a displaced New Orleanian. She says they're doing great work. Check it out.

I've started watching The Comeback. Lisa Kudrow was robbed of the Emmy this year. That said, it makes me want to crawl under the couch and die because it's so mortifying. I can see why it was cancelled -- it's because no one can stand to be that uncomfortable watching something for any long period of time. It's hilarious, but it's in a heartbreaking way because it's so painful to watch -- you just want to die a thousand deaths for her character with pretty much every passing moment.

I'm beginning this attempt to write online in a different format. I felt I could no longer be a slave to the ancient ways. It's nothing too pretty, but I tried to make it as similar to my old look as possible because that look is comfortable and familiar to me. I still know nothing of feeds or some of the other newfangled trends. I'm sure I'll have to tool around with things some more. Also, I'm doing this on my iBook at home, so it might look insane in some browers, and I don't have a clue. I have no idea if I'll stick with this, as it makes me feel vaguely nauseated to abandon the old-school format, but I'm giving it a go because it's both easy and free -- and for the sake of trying to leap (at least somewhat) into modern times. Don't hate me.