Patriotism

Where to start. I will get running out of the way. I made up last week's failed long run attempt again at the beginning of this week, and I actually made it the full 80 minutes, and it wasn't altogether horrible. I made it 7.4 miles (average per-mile pace of 10:49), and maybe I could have tried to go faster, but I was okay with it. I actually really sort of enjoyed miles four and five, no clue why. Tomorrow I'll run again on the last day of the year.

It's been a holiday season of movies for sure. It's Complicated was funny and cute, and I'd be lying if I didn't admit that my very favorite person in the movie was John Krasinski (Jim Halpert), who pretty much stole every scene he was in, as I told mo, with his comedic adorableness. I didn't love it the way I loved another Nancy Meyers film, Something's Gotta Give, but I definitely had a good time watching it. Next was Nine. I have to say that I understand why a lot of people would not enjoy this movie and might actually hate it, but I liked it! Mostly I just liked Marion Cotillard, the most beautiful woman on planet earth, as far as I'm concerned. Her part, her first song, and her overall gloriously luminous face were the best things about the movie by a mile. (Hear the whole song here. Just trust me. It was gorgeous.)

Today I went to the big city with my parents and little brother to have a totally delicious lunch of crab gumbo, grilled shrimp, fish, shrimp etouffee, bread pudding with whiskey sauce -- pretty much straight ridiculousness. It was off the charts fantastic. We headed in the rain afterwards to a museum where we watched a new film and visited the exhibits. It was all very stirring, as you can imagine, and I think we all felt a bit raw emotionally on the drive home in the pouring rain. I made the mistake of trying (and failing) to articulate effectively some of my mixed feelings after seeing the movie and visiting the museum. About how it's hard for me to feel pumped up about America and victory while feeling overwhelmed, sick, and sad at the same time. About how everything and everyone now presents it as fact that we did the right thing in bombing Japan, but is that just spin to justify that we did it? Well, this did not go over very well.

I try to remember that my parents were born in 1946 and grew up with a different perspective on this, having parents and siblings who lived through it all. And I know that they think I Just Don't Get It. And I know that I don't. I have tried to get it, though, I really have. I took something like 27 hours of history classes in college, trying to understand. I spent days in Normandy (series of entries starts here) and at the Imperial War Museum in London and the Holocaust Museum in D.C., trying to understand. I dined at the same table as an English D-Day veteran and talked to him about it, trying to understand. I watched and cried through hours upon hours of The War, trying to understand. I have rented untold numbers of WWII documentaries on everything from the Battle of the Bulge (which basically caused me to have an emotional breakdown) to hidden Jewish children and Anne Frank and Hitler's final days to the Berlin Airlift, trying to understand. I was lucky enough to go on a special tour of Pearl Harbor, where I kept on trying to understand. Today was my third visit to this museum. What I'm saying is that I've tried to expose myself to lots of different avenues of understanding. But still. I do not.

It's just impossible for me to process. Maybe it's impossible for anyone to process, and maybe that's why it's all boiled down to we were right, they were wrong, the end. Maybe that's the only way that, as a nation, we could recover and heal from all that happened. My brother tried to tell me that I can't look at it through a modern filter, and maybe he's right. The wars of our lifetime have certainly not been not very clear cut, but back then, maybe things really were a lot more black and white. I guess we had to try to win by any means necessary because losing was too unimaginable. But I swear, I was permanently changed by The Book Thief. All I could think about during the film today when they showed the rubble of a bombed German town, the shell of a burning community, were the people who lived there, who probably were poor and starving and completely effed by the Fuhrer and now dead. And that ultimately it was his fault, not ours. And that ultimately the deaths in Japan were the psycho, un-surrendering emperor's fault, not ours. Right? I just cannot deal with the fact that so many regular, innocent people died who were just living their lives. And I can't even begin to deal with all of the soldiers and military people who died. I mean, I just can't. It actually sits on my chest like a weight, especially after days like today.

And when I tried to explain this, the reaction was that I was simply wrong and we had no choice and we saved the world and that's that. And -- yes. I get that. Of course I recognize that unspeakable horrors and atrocities were being committed that needed to be stopped. Of course I am glad that we won the war and liberated the camps and ended the power of the reigning mega-crazies and appreciate the sacrifices made by millions and recognize, on some level, that we did what we had to do. But it doesn't make me want to stand up and cheer; it makes me feel like throwing up because all I see is the death and destruction. And I think what I did the worst job of explaining today is that while the movie was very cool and riveting, I don't like things that pat America on the back to the extreme about how right we were and are about everything and emphasize that we are the best country ever, because I get icky associations of "enemy" countries patting themselves on the back using the same reasoning about how they're right about everything and are really the best. It is like I am hyper-propaganda-paranoid. IS THAT CRAZY? I think maybe it is. I think this is what sent my family over the edge on the way home. But I can't help it! I think I am in the midst of a personal patriotism crisis! I am just trying to honestly reflect upon this and figure out what it all means. Maybe at the end of the day, part of being alive is being for your own country. Like how you're for the college football team in the town where you were born. Maybe it's just what people are supposed to do.

I think I'll just go watch this and cry some more.

Holidays so far

Let's get the running talk out of the way first. Since this week was the first week of four runs, I figured I'd get cracking as early as possible, so I left work early on Monday to head out for my 45-minute run. It's possible that a couple of hours were not sufficient time to adequately digest the giant amount of food consumed at my siblings' birthday lunch -- red beans and rice, hush puppies, both fried and marinated crab fingers, etc. -- BUT! I soldiered on, and somehow I ran 4.5 miles in 45 minutes. Yes, you read that correctly. For those following along, that is quite fast for me, to keep a 10-minute-mile pace for several miles in a row, and I just feel sort of proud about it. The perfect weather helped! In case I haven't mentioned it, the weather this month has been vile and disgusting 9 days out of 10, and this burst of sunshine and dry ground is just making everything so much better. I think that I am getting a little faster in part because I am being really conscious about relaxing my arms, almost to the point where they're more straight than bent at the elbow, which is weird, but it's working for me. On Wednesday, the run was really short -- only 20 minutes -- and I missed run three as it was set for Christmas morning and was literally freezing outside and I thought, "Eff it." Run four was set for 80 minutes, and I only made it three miles after yet another gargantuan holiday meal before just surrendering, walking to my brother's house, and asking him, defeated, to drive me home. And that's it on the running front. Tomorrow begins a new week, and I'm going to start it with the long run that was a bust yesterday. It's a process.

I finished reading The Daily Coyote: A Story of Love, Survival, and Trust in the Wilds of Wyoming by Shreve Stockton, and it's a mighty fine read indeed. I've been aware of her website for a long time, but somehow I missed that she'd published a book about her life with Charlie the coyote. Reading this book is making me feel all sorts of smooshy lovey-doveyness towards my pets. It's fascinating, and the photos are beautiful. Now I'm in the middle of Kitchen Confidential, and so far, so good. I also finished Catching Fire, the sequel to The Hunger Games, and it, like book one, was ridiculous. Ridiculously awesome in every way. What happens in these books is unbearable on many levels, but that's just part of what makes them impossible to put down. The fact that book three does not come out until August is causing me actual physical pain. I guess I'll just re-read the first two over and over until that day comes!

Now ... The History Boys. I'd heard of this play and movie but never knew much about it. Because everything lately comes back to Gavin and Stacey, I noted when listening to audio commentary of the episodes that one of the creators/writers/stars of the show, James Corden (Smithy), explained that many of Smithy and Gavin's guy friends were in The History Boys with him, so I rented the film. And I have to tell you, I really liked it. I had no idea that the play was a smash hit in London, then went on a smash tour, then was a smash Tony winner on Broadway, and then became a film, and that these cast members were together for years upon years playing the roles all the way through. The special features on the DVD are adorable and quite funny and touching, especially the tour diary. I'm very glad I saw this film.

On Christmas afternoon, as is a tradition, we headed to the movies. This year it was Up in the Air. I knew this movie has been getting raves, but I didn't know much about it. It definitely exceeded my expectations and proved to me that George Clooney is not only a first class dreamboat (which obviously I knew) but also a mighty, mighty fine actor. He was just incredibly good, and the movie was totally enjoyable even when uncomfortable and sad. Anna Kendrick: also fabulous. It was excellent, and I'd totally see it again. We were still in the movie mood that night, so we watched Up, which made me laugh and cry and was totally scary and traumatic and not for young children, I don't think. But totally and completely great nonetheless.

The holiday season thus far has been lovely. My mom outdid herself with the tons of delicious food, meal after meal; it was great to spend time and laugh with my sister and brother-in-law, who were here for Christmas; I had a great meal on a friend's birthday with the best Sazerac I've had in ages, which was somehow just what I needed on Christmas Eve-Eve; we all spent a ferociously stormy Christmas Eve morning feasting at my very favorite cafe, which was wonderful; my dad surprised us with tickets to today's Saints game, which was fun even though the ending was truly hein; (for the best piece I've ever read about the Saints, and maybe even New Orleans as a whole, read this article); there were moments of reconciliation. I'm looking forward to more relaxation and fun in the coming week as we all ring in the new year.

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.

Cool weather and cool times

A few misc. thoughts to start:

I am continuing to regularly update my House Ideas post.

I never tire of Scouting NY. It is full of such cool photographs and stories.

I am in the market for a small coffee maker. Most of the time, one or two cups will do just fine. If you have any recommendations, I'd love to hear them.

I finished Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life by Barbara Kingsolver, which I mostly loved, which I knew I would, except that now I feel guilty every time I eat a banana. Which I just did. I really want to be better about eating locally, but I don't want to give up bananas. I am working on this. It's a process.

Because I apparently cannot stop reading books about food, I know I am going to end up reading Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer. I am bracing myself for this one, though. I am easily influenced and know it's going to make me go through a dilemma about whether or not to go vegetarian. But I kind of like putting myself through such dilemmas sometimes. As someone who unapologetically loved his first two books, I know I'll like the way it's written.

This review makes me really want to read Craig Ferguson's memoir.

And now for a weekend update. It was a nice weekend. I went to the farmer's market and got lettuce and a loaf of whole wheat bread and organic potatoes and organic satsumas.

Class let out early so we could attend the book festival, which was fun, and what's not cool about seeing Ernest Gaines in person? I bought Printz winner Looking for Alaska and an anthology called How Beautiful the Ordinary: Twelve Stories of Identity, chosen because I liked the title and because I am very charmed by David Levithan. So far, I've only read his chapter, which begins the book, and it made me cry.

Following the book festival was high tea at my favorite cafe, where we were served four courses of awesome. It was a delight.

Back at home, the afternoon was one of open windows with the chilly, fresh air blowing in, the baking of white chocolate macadamia oatmeal cookies (which I ended up dreadfully overcooking, oh well!), Brandi's album on the stereo, and a visit with a friend. I also took the dogs out for a long walk in the late afternoon. They were hellions, but it was great to be outside in the sun and actually get some exercise, of which I have done exactly none for weeks.

It got down into the low 40s on Saturday night, which was kind of bananas. I slept in until 7 on Sunday morning when Zuko could be contained no longer, so I got up, released the hounds, and then went back to bed until 9. It was the first cold morning since right around the time I got my new bed and comforter, so snuggling in it in the cold felt so decadent and luxurious and heavenly. It is a cloud. I love it.

Lamenting the rock hardness of the cookies of the previous day, I evaluated the ingredients I had left on hand and made a giant batch of simple sugar cookies, which I have to tell you, were melt-in-your-mouth good. Note: if you stick to the wee teaspoon-sized balls, which I did, do NOT cook longer than 7 or 8 minutes. You will be sorry. Also, I creamed my butter and sugar with an electric mixer, which I never knew I supposed to do (oops). But it worked. They were perfect and tiny and very buttery and divine. I will never make store-bought sugar cookies again. Never!

Once I was done with my baking extravaganza, I pumped up my bike tires and went out for a ride for the first time since the last triathlon of the summer, also known as the last week of August. Wow. It was a little cool outside, but it was sunny and felt kind of magical to actually ride it again and be back among the exercisers. I totally felt like one of them all spring and summer, but then I left the group for about six weeks or so. It felt good to be back. One uber-cyclist in a cycling suit on a super whizzy fast bike and I came to a bridge at the same time and I said, "Sorry!" as I bumbled clumsily in front of him and he chirped, "Don't apologize, I'm the maniac out here!" And I said, "I'm kind of slow!" and he cheerleaded, "At least you're out here riding!" And that was that. He smiled at me later as we passed each other again while I was in the midst of yelling "ASSHOLE!" at a pushy car. Oh, drivers of cars. A little patience as we cross an intersection. Is all we bikers ask.

I attended a party for my friend who's selling jewelry, where I overindulged in cocktail meatballs. I don't even really like meat. But they are so good. Then it was book club, with Persepolis and yummy homemade bread and chili and nice people.

Tonight in the works is a dinner of new potatoes from the farmer's market roasted in a hot oven with olive oil and minced garlic and salt and pepper alongside some whole wheat angel hair with tomatoes and broccoli florets and chicken and purple onions. And I might need to eat three or four satsumas for dessert. And Every Little Step is on its way.

In the mood for swoony romance what with the colder weather and all, the only thing to do yeterday was see Bright Star. The actors who played Fanny Brawne & John Keats were very pretty and good, the overall look of the film was gorgeous, and even if it was all made up for all I know, it was utterly heartbreaking. There may have been noisy, copious weeping. I kept thinking back to when I visited the Keats-Shelley house Rome in 1998. Here's what I wrote in my journal that day at the age of 23: "All I have to say is that the Keats-Shelley Memorial museum was 100% amazing. Locks of Keats's hair, original pages of 'Lamia' and 'Ode on a Nightingale,' his last letters to his sister before he left for Italy which talked about how he wanted to fully recover -- and the room where he died. So young. So sad. Moving. Awesome." For years, I had framed postcards I bought there of his gravestone and of this image, sketched by his friend as Keats lay dying. I'm not sure what I did with them. Anyway, my thoughts on the movie are all wrapped up with how I felt visiting that place all those years ago. Overall, it wasn't a perfect movie, but it was very lovely and very romantic and very sad, if that sort of thing does it for you. (It does it for me.)

It was grand

I've read Wil Wheaton's blog for years now. It's very enjoyable. But the posts that get me right in the heart are ones like this. This movie was such an important part of my childhood. I can't even put it into words.

I first saw Stand By Me in the spring of 1987. I think it was a pay-per-view movie that some girlfriends and I watched. It was love at first sight for me and became a very intense and heartfelt obsession. Evidence of such: my diary, age 12.

Looking back at these diary entries, it seems like my love for this movie was wrapped around crushes on the actors. And it's true; I did have major crushes on them, and my walls were plastered with pictures of them from the latest teen magazines I would buy every Sunday at K&B when we went out for beignets after mass. But it was deeper than that for me. I was twelve; the characters were twelve. I had some true and real friendships at that age; so did they. My life was nowhere as adventurous as the trip they took to see a dead body. But in my mind, life held that potential for adventure. And that was enough.

I remember that this movie made me wish I were a boy. I felt like only boys got to sneak away for the weekend and cross railroad tracks and romp through the woods. I was very aware of this aching feeling all the time. Why couldn't I be a boy? I guess that was just all a part of being confused and twelve years old. I would wonder what would become of us when we graduated from that school and went our separate ways, if we would stay friends forever or if we would come in and out of each others' lives like busboys in a restaurant. I would watch the adult Gordie typing on his computer at the end of the movie and wonder what we would all be when we grew up.

My friends and I loved this movie so, so much. It was a major bond between us, it really was. We all had our favorite characters and defended our stances on those favorites. As noted above, mine was Gordie. Always, always Gordie. I think I fancied myself an observer like he was, as lame as that sounds. And the weird thing is that even though it was a movie about boys, I don't remember sharing the obsession with any of my guy friends back then. It was for us girls only, it seemed. We basically started speaking to each other exclusively in the film's dialogue.

I shared it with my family, and they got it. Somehow the first time I watched it with my parents is still cemented in my memory. I still remember how hard my dad laughed when Ace was giving his lesson on what kind religious background girls should have if the guys wanted to get lucky. And how he rewound the part when Milo told Teddy that his father was crazier than a shithouse rat like 10 times, laughing every time, even though that was an upsetting scene. I think he just liked that expression. And how much he LOVED when Gordie told Ace to suck his fat one. (I also remember how much he wished that Gordie had said, "I want my hat back, you son of a bitch," like when Inigo Montoya says that about his father.) My mom understood that it was really about friendship and understood how much it meant to me and didn't seem to mind the talk of Annette's chest and the f-bombs. My sister and I got the soundtrack on vinyl from our parents for Easter that year. We wore it out, and I still have that record even though I don't have a record player. My friends and sister and I still drop the lines into our casual conversation when appropriate.

This movie made me laugh out loud and broke my heart into a million pieces every time I watched it. My heart broke for real when River Phoenix died my first semester of college, and I imagined him fading out like the shot of Chris Chambers over and over. I am having a hard time explaining this without sounding like a major idiot, I realize this. I haven't watched it in years, even though I own the DVD, but I could watch it today and still recite every word. I just loved it so much.

It makes me really happy that Wil Wheaton grew up to be a writer.

Rainy ride and recent movies

I've found that the week post-triathlon, each time, has been a bit of a downer. The other day I resolved to kick off the latter half of the week with what would hopefully be a restorative bike ride at sun-up. So off I went on my first ride since Sunday's hilly atrocity. It was a lovely morning, and the sky was brightening with the ascending sun, and I passed my old boss's house and she was out on her driveway with her dog, so we waved.

Not 5 seconds later, I noticed some water on the sidewalk ahead, which is not unusual due to sprinklers, but then I noticed sprinkles all over the lake, and I thought to myself, "Wow, they must have gotten a bigger sprinkler!" Then I realized that it was pouring down rain. Whoa! It was kind of shocking at first because I couldn't really see, but I said, "Self, eyelids are the original windshield wipers. You can make this work!" So I just started blinking rapidly and somehow kept most of the water out of my eyes. I had to slow down, obviously, but what was I going to do, pull over and just stand there holding my bike in the rain? Soon I was soaked to the skin, my shoes filled up with water, and I could feel the dirt splashing up on my seat, shorts, shirt, and even helmet from the back tire. It was kind of crazy.

I could not help but laugh; there were a ton of runners out, and everyone seemed sort of amused, shrugging at each other and smiling as we passed. The best part was how the ducks climbed out of the woodwork to take over the rapidly filling puddles, splashing and ducking their entire heads in the water and pulling them out and shaking them off and then nosediving right back in. It was a total Disney movie. The sun was still shining, so everything was kind of shiny and sparkly and lovely. Eventually I made it home, sloshing inside and realizing the entire back of my body and clothing was caked in sandy wet black dirt. Good times!

Misc.: Sometimes I make little notes to myself about things and can't remember their origin. Like, I just found one that says "Mr. Blue Sky. ELO." I really, really like this song! But where did first hear it, and what made me look it up? No memory of this whatsoever. (A little later...) I remember now! I was reading one of the trailer tournament posts at Low Resolution and heard it in the trailer for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Great movie, great song.

And now a quick recap of movies I've seen recently:

Funny People

I always enjoy seeing movies with my little brother because he laughs big and he laughs often, which makes me laugh, too. Overall, this movie is kind of strange. It's funny and depressing. I liked all of the actors, but I wasn't crazy about the characters. Leslie Mann was really good, and Eric Bana was so funny I might have been kind of in shock. It's way too long, but it's got good parts. Wow, I am a terrible movie reviewer!

500 Days of Summer

Mostly, I liked it. I liked the music, and the actors were totally winning. I was a little annoyed by the aglow in the sunshine shots, you know what I mean? But I thought the end was very true to life. And the Hall and Oates dancing scene was perfection to me.

Julie and Julia

I understand that Julie was supposed to be living a blah life, but I will never understand why they had to de-glamourize Amy Adams to such an absurd degree in this role. I guess they had to try extra hard to dim her natural radiance (I am serious), but it was so overboard that I just wanted to shake Julie by the shoulders and say, "How can you expect to be happy with hair and clothes like that?" That said, clearly Meryl Streep was beyond amazing and so delightful that the movie made me feel a little floaty. It was a fun one to see with my mom, who LOVED IT. I caught some Julia Child reruns on PBS later that week, and she really was so astonishing to watch. "And now I shall give my chicken a BUTTER MASSAGE!" I thought Meryl Streep might be playing her over the top, but it turns out that's how she really was. A movie all about Julia would have probably been better, but I understand why they set it up the way that they did and that Julie's side of the story was the whole impetus for the film, that her blog was a brilliant idea, and that the actual real-life Julie is probably a lot less dishwatery than the film version. Overall: thumbs up.

17 Again

I thought the Efron factor would be enough to make this a good movie. I was very wrong. There is nothing good about this movie. Zac was so fantastic as Link in Hairspray, but everything about Hairspray was so glorious and perfect that perhaps I overestimated his personal greatness. To beat a dead horse, I still think he'd make a better Ren McCormack than Chace Crawford.

I Love You, Man

I have loved Jason Segel since he was Nick Andopolis (scroll to 2:50), and Paul Rudd can do no wrong as far as I'm concerned. I liked this movie, but I didn't love it. Rashida Jones is a very natural and likable actress. The guys were very funny. Anything featuring J.K. Simmons gets a good grade from me, usually, and I also really like Andy Samberg. My affection for the movie deepened greatly when watching the special features, which were hilarious and totally worth watching. Without those, this movie mainly made me want to watch Forgetting Sarah Marshall so I could see Paul Rudd as Kunu and Jason Segel as Peepyopee.

The Class

Well. This movie is way better than any of those others. It is in a (pardon me) class by itself. Every moment is brutally and beautifully authentic, every actor is pitch perfect, from the adults to the children, it is like watching a documentary, it is like watching real life, and I loved it. The behind the scenes features about the backstory and creation of the film were fascinating. I cannot stop thinking about this movie. It is something special.

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day:

This is a movie I just keep re-watching over and over again. Thanks to Kymm for passing along this (spoilery) review, which wonderfully captures the greatness of the film and describes perfectly the joy and love it causes to surge through one's heart. (The clip to one of my favorite scenes is broken in the review, so try this one, if interested ... it's not super quality, but it's the only clip I could find.) Love, love, love. I could not love this movie more. It is pure magic.)

Randomosity

Today's entry will be a string of random thoughts.

It turns out that I have some complex feelings about Michael Jackson. At first when he died, I was immediately annoyed that everything was super positive about him with nary a mention of the fact that he was bananas and possibly did some unspeakable things to small children. But then I started watching clips and remembering. Remembering how much I once loved him, the posters on my bedroom walls, my lapel pin with his face on it, how he predated any other celebrity crush I ever had in later years, the way I adored him before my age even hit the double digits, the whole thing. It's hard for me to articulate my feelings about this so I'll leave it to Linda & Sars, who both said it better than I could.

Apologies to those who have already heard me rant about this: I do not think Chace Crawford is a good enough actor to play Ren McCormack in the Footloose remake, and I wish Zac Efron were going to play him as originally planned. Because I actually think Zac Efron is very talented! Shut up. I also think that Julianne Hough in the Lori Singer role (Ariel) is an abomination. She's supposed to be dark and damaged, and I highly doubt that Hough has that in her. Lori Singer was hardcore. It sort of bothered me when I was very young that she was not your typical teen beauty type like Cindi Mancini in Can't Buy Me Love, but as I've grown up, I realize that she was pretty much perfect for this role. Like, if my dad were super strict and my life were that legitimately dreary and hard, maybe I wouldn't eat either. (Not trying to diss her skinniness, I'm just saying.) Footloose is not all feel-good dancey dancey lighthearted goodness by any stretch. I mean, Ariel's brother died. The reverend is genuinely conflicted. There are some long and sort of boring for children scenes dealing with this, particularly the one set in church and the talks between the reverend and his wife. Bricks are thrown through windows. Books are burned. Ariel's boyfriend beats her up. I'm saying, it's got some heaviness interspersed between chicken races on tractors and Ren teaching Willard how to dance. And the director of the remake directed High School Musical. The more I think about the remake the more annoyed I get, frankly.

I've now made these two weekends in a row. I first made them several summers ago for B.'s birthday, and I've been thinking of them ever since. These past two batches, I've had some trouble dislodging them from the muffin pan without breaking the edges, so they look kind of ugly, but they still taste great. (I use sugar cookie dough instead of peanut butter cookie dough because they are already plenty peanut buttery.)

This was a weekend of nonstop chick-flickery. First: He's Just Not That Into You. Despite my enjoyment of Justin Long in anything he does, this is just not a very good movie. For many reasons. I lack the energy today to get as worked up about this movie as I'd like to, so let me just tell you that I don't recommend it. Second: Confessions of a Shopaholic. I rented this movie solely because of Isla Fisher and Hugh Dancy, and it did not disappoint. I find them both infinitely charming, and this movie is totally cute and entertaining. Third: Marley and Me. Bawled my eyes out at the end, not just cried quiet civilized tears but bawled. I can't say it was a great movie, but Marley sure was cute and reminded me so much of Zuko, that stupid, wild, destructive maniac of a dog I can't help but love.

Went on a 13-mile bike ride this morning. Yesterday I rode to a bike store to get my bike outfitted with new pedals and pedal brackets (baskets? not sure what they're called) -- things to put my feet into. Not clips or anything that would require me to actually fasten my feet in or buy expensive new shoes, but just something to slip my normal sneakers into so I can pedal more efficiently. Other than actually getting both feet inside these without tipping over -- it took me several tries -- I liked this newfangled way of riding and do think it helped me go a little faster.

Today's ride also marked a milestone I've been working up to -- reaching down to grab my water bottle while pedaling. I have never braved this feat because it's really far down, practically below the seat, and takes a really long reach to grab it, which means pedaling one-handed and reaching down and grabbing it and this just seemed too herculean a task to achieve. But today I reached down and touched the bottle a few times without actually grabbing it (tip from Jessie) to practice the reach down. It got to the point that sweat was pouring from my forehead down my nose to my upper lip into my actual mouth and I was so thirsty I started tasting what can only be described as lung juice in the back of my throat and this disgusting sensation propelled me to reach down and grab the tip of the bottle between my knuckles. Triumph! I swigged with abandon and thought I'd just hold the bottle the rest of the ride and drink out of it at my leisure. But then I remembered I needed my hand for, you know, braking. So I had to reach down and return it to its holder. Which was scary in and of itself but I did it. Then I repeated the whole process twice more over the course of the ride. I am very glad I now know how to do this because it's going to be a long, hot summer and I can't ride without drinking water, hello.

The ride was fairly delightful once I got this new routine down. Nature highlight: gorgeous, delicate egret slowly walking across the water. Nature lowpoint: seeing how low the lakes are due to basically zero rainfall in weeks. Musical high points: the harmonies in Cages or Wings and the theme to The Greatest American Hero and hearing The Weepies sing about how you can't steal happiness.

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.

Thoughts while watching Twilight DVD

We might need to have a conversation about this movie. (I'm about 1/2-way through it, and I had to sit down and write down these thoughts!)

Here are my thoughts:

(1) I think the studio, or whoever's in charge, made the RIGHT decision in not letting the same woman direct the upcoming movies. There is a lot wrong with this movie, but I think the buck stops with her. It is just so weird, overdone, cheesy, and weirdly paced in every possible way.

(2) I feel like this movie is almost a parody of the book. Clearly the book is ridiculous in its own way, but I don't really think this movie does it justice, if that's possible.

(3) The music is boring.

(4) The diamond skin glistening up on the mountain was shoddily done and RIDIC.

(5) Kristen Stewart, whom I have seen really shine and be excellent in other things (Laurie Halse Anderson's Speak, Into the Wild), must have (I can only assume) realized this project was not going to be very well done because she totally phones in every moment she's on screen.

(6) I cannot imagine seeing this in a theater without everyone bursting out laughing the entire time. Is that what happened?

(7) OH NO, now they are lying in the grass staring at each other and the camera is spinning around them in slow circles and he started to diamond glisten again! I want to die.

(8) Thank God I have this leftover Irish soda bread to keep me company or I think I would not be able to take it.

(9) Bella's narration is lame and unnecessary. I guess they thought it was needed to fill in blanks as far as Bella's thoughts, but everything she says is obvious and things the audience would know anyway. LAME.

(10) With the exception of Jessica, whom I thought was good, the casting of the rest of the friends crowd was piss-poor. Wasn't Michael supposed to be a really nice guy? He is totally a dork here and so embarrassing to watch. (He played the nerdy brother on Joan of Arcadia and was much better on that.) I BLAME THE DIRECTOR.

(11) The part when Carlisle bites Edward's neck in 1918 was a little too erotic for children's viewing in my opinion.

(12) The analogy of vampires living on animals to humans living on tofu -- they are never fully satisfied -- must have pissed off a lot of vegetarians/vegans. Tofu is totally satisfying if you know how to cook it! I'm just saying.

(13) I do understand the love of Edward Cullen because the actor is very handsome, that cannot be denied, and he's sometimes funny when he's not being SUPER ANGSTY. I also like imagining his English accent in real life.

(14) I feel bad for the actors who play Edward and Bella because they are now super famous, have to promote the movie all over the place, and clearly sort of hate it, and now they are in it for the long haul. I wonder if they knew what they were getting into? Why am I overthinking this so much?

(15) The Harry Potter movies are a lot better.

(16) When are they going to make out?!?!? JEEZ! (She declared she is unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him, but no making out yet.)

(17) When the vampire sister broke the salad bowl when Edward said Bella already ate, that was FUNNY and the best part so far!

(A little later ...)

(18) It got better once they kissed.

(19) Once the bad vampires showed up during the ridiculous baseball scene, the whole movie got so much better.

(20) I liked the ballet school fight scene.

(And ... I'm done.)

(21) I don't really understand how we, are an audience, are supposed to buy into Bella & Edward as an epic love story.

(22) I don't even really think the movie shows how / when they fell in love. Was it when they were flying through the trees? If not, when?

(23) Also, didn't Jacob have a bigger part in the book? He is barely in the movie. So weird! He just shows up at the end to tell her to break up with Edward and then glares at Edward real hard. What?

(24) I really really really want to hear your thoughts on this movie! I feel like it just wasn't good. I don't think it did a good service to the fans of the book.

(25) What are the public's impressions of the film? Did the fans love it? Hate it? Love to hate it?

(26) Perhaps the most burning question of all is why Bella was allowed to wear that hideous maw-maw sweater over her prom dress? WTF!!!!!!!!!!

(27) ALSO, and I think this is my major beef: I don't think this sends a very good message to young girls. Why would a girl want to DIE in order to be a VAMPIRE just so could she would be with her boyfriend forever? This is twisted, un-feminist, and fucked up.

Thoughts?

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.

34

The night before my birthday, I went out for Thai with my parents and brother. We had a nice visit over shrimp toast, nam sod, and various shrimp/chicken/vegetable entrees.

On my birthday morning, I was inexplicably wide awake at 4 a.m. I decided to roll over, flip on the bedside lamp, and open Harry: A History by Melissa Anelli, which (Melissa was right) is pretty fantastic. I spent a couple of hours with it before falling back asleep, only to be awakened at 8 by Zuko's staccato alarm bark. Oh well. I ate breakfast and headed out on a run. It was gray and very breezy out, the wind whipping the leaves (and me) all over the road. I got diverted by a train at one point, but overall, it was a fairly satisfying run.

After showering and all that jazz, I stopped for an iced coffee and headed to the farmer's market, where I bought some birthday gifts for friends. It started getting colder and colder outside, which was weird considering how warm it's been lately. I had a nice lunch with B. and headed to my massage appointment. It was my first time with a male massage therapist since Arturo in Costa Rica. I was a little nervous but got over it quickly. As he dug into upper back with great force, he noted that I can take more pressure than most. Then as he dug into my neck mightily, he said that some people have a tight spot here and there in their necks but that mine was tight all over. "Your neck ... is a rock," he said. "Yeah," I sighed. He worked on it for most of the hour, moving onto my hips at my request because they are always super tight, I think from running and squatting during the f-ing Jillian Michaels' DVD, and hard to stretch. He did all sorts of stretches, pushing my knee onto my chest and saying, "Wow, you are flexible. I mean -- wow. You are FLEXIBLE." I told him that was the only thing I scored well on during my gym fitness test a few years ago. Then he held my hip as he stretched it the opposite way across my body and sort of lay on it. This is hard to explain and sounds sort of obscene, but it was all very comfortable and professional until I screamed when he massaged the IT Band area of my hip with a little too much vim and vigor. Then he worked my upper back underneath my shoulder blades and so forth and it was basically an hour of complete heaven. It felt like a great gift to give myself on my birthday.

After my massage, I lay like goo on the couch and popped in my new Dr. Horrible DVD, a gift from my little brother. It was awesome, of course, as was the musical commentary, which just knocked my socks off. This whole enterprise is so delightful on so many levels to me. I bought myself the soundtrack and made a copy for him so we could continue to share the Dr. Horrible love. It was fun to check the mailbox and get some really nice cards. Overall, it was a lovely morning and afternoon.

The day shifted into evening, and I headed out for a girls' dinner. Stupid me did not think to make reservations, so our group of six faced a two-hour wait. Oops! So we sat outside on the patio, which was challenging due to the fact that a sudden Arctic blast was blowing through. Luckily there were heaters, and it gave me an excuse to wear my new school bus-colored coat all night long. We shared potstickers and pizza and fried rice and pad Thai and drank wine and gossiped and laughed and it felt really good to be surrounded by women I've known so long ... one I've known since kindergarten. They all brought me very wonderful and thoughtful gifts, which I didn't expect, and picked up my tab. It was all very special! I can't really describe it without lapsing into sentimentality so I'll stop there. One girlfriend and I headed out to watch my brother play for a little while but didn't last very long as apparently 34 means you have to be in bed by 11:00.

It got down into the thirties last night after a long string of days in the seventies, so that was a little bizarre. I woke up this morning and went to the grocery store, story of my life. Then I baked a ton of St. Patrick's Day cookies to freeze for my parade party. I've never frozen cookies before and hope they come out okay. I have to say that the green shamrock-shaped cookies are pretty cute even though some of them look more like amoebas than shamrocks. Then I decided to go out to World Market and look for some aqua curtains for my bedroom. I bought these and like them a lot. I also bought a new rug for the foot of my bed. My room, I have to say, is looking very different, and I am happy about it. I decided to go all white for my new bed (more on the new bed soon!), and I think it's all coming together.

Today I made this in my crock pot. I drained that m-fing tofu for like 36 hours and it still felt a bit moist. But I had better luck with the cornstarch and browning the tofu than last time; I think tofu just feels damp no matter how long you drain it! I used olive oil instead of butter and took my time getting it nice and brown, and it turned out perfectly delicious. I cooked it longer than the 3 hours instructed because I checked it at 3 hours and the carrots were still too hard for my liking. I also added a little more water than the recipe called for and when it tells you to add a little water and shake up the remnants of the sauce in the jar, I added 1/4 a teaspoon of cayenne pepper and some salt and shook that up with the liquid. I also added two cloves of chopped garlic and a pretty hefty chunk of chopped fresh ginger. Fascinating, I know! Anyway, I ate it over basmati rice, and it might be my favorite thing I've made in the crockpot thus far. Success!

Overall, it's been a very nice birthday weekend. Today is the beginning of a new month and a new year at a new age. I am determined to live well and work hard and, as Maria instructed Liesl, look for my life.

Fat Tuesday / Ash Wednesday

Yesterday we had a holiday. I woke up early, of course, and headed to the grocery store for a big shopping trip and was home by 9 a.m. I don't really remember what I did. Oh yeah, I went on a run. 3 miles on a beautiful day. Then I had an impromptu lunch with M. and my favorite five-year-old, her daughter. We ate BBQ chicken pizza and drank frozen lemonade and it was great to have some girl time. I went to a cooking store where the owner fussed at me for not having cash, snarling that she might as well give me the shamrock cookie cutter for free for what running the charge would cost her. Made mental note not to return to stores where owners fuss at you for buying something. Eventually, I headed to my parents' house, where my mom and I ate king cake and watched Slumdog. (A copy on DVD arrived in my mailbox one day last month, a surprise from a friend. No idea where he got it; didn't ask!) I was able to watch the entire movie with my eyes open this time instead of shielding them at certain tense moments, and I caught things I missed the first two times around, including one really big thing involving Salim and Latika when they were kids. It was great fun to watch this movie with my mom, who covered her eyes, shrieked, writhed in her chair, laughed, and cried in all the right places. It is always fun to watch someone you love fall in love with something you love. I tell myself that I like sharing things I love regardless of how they're received, but it's always a bit deflating when something falls short of what you want it to be for someone (which is as awesome to them as it is to you). So I was unspeakably psyched to see how psyched she was to watch this movie. She actually called it "a gift." Good times.

Today is Ash Wednesday. I am giving up junk food for Lent. This feels like a monumental undertaking. My mom says that Lent, in part, is about emptying yourself of bad things in order to make room for good things. I think she meant spiritually, but I am taking this sort of literally, in that I am emptying my body of food that is bad for me and hoping it makes room for me to feel better, sleep better, look better (always a bonus), and most of all, live better. I realize it's only day one, but I feel oddly freed by this decision. Of course, in a week, I will probably be all "my kingdom for a Twix!" We'll see. Also, I abandoned my no-coffee resolution after less than a week, and I've decided my morning cup of coffee will have to be pried from my cold dead hands.

A few co-workers and I went to noon mass today for Ash Wednesday. It had been so long since going to Ash Wednesday mass that I was thinking you get the ashes the same time as you get communion. But no. You file up separately for each act. I have to tell you. I could not believe how many people showed up for noon mass in the middle of a workday. I mean, I could believe it, but I couldn't believe it. People were pouring into that cathedral like ants. We were squished together as tightly as possible in the pews, and still a huge group of people was standing in the back and people were lined up standing on the sides. Hundreds upon hundreds of people is what I'm saying. And it's not like this is the only service around ... all of the parishes have multiple masses throughout the morning, day, and evening today. The ash getting took a very long time. At communion, they ran out of communion wafers. The bishop gathered a few of us who were left around and started randomly and somewhat apologetically blessing us after they ran out. One of the ushers, a wrinkled old man, leaned over, realizing they'd also run out of wine, and whispered to us, "If we'd known there'd be this many people, we'd have brought more liquor!" Eventually someone ran in with a plastic bucket of more wafers and we all were able to receive them. At the beginning of the mass, before the processional, the cantor was announcing the song pages and then said, "Oops, I forgot to mention this mass is being presided over by the bishop. Sorry, Bishop!" and started waving her hands in the air like she just didn't care at the bishop who was in the back of the cathedral. It was all very comedic in a way, this solemn holy day.

What struck me about sitting there around these bazillions of people was not only the reminder that I live in a town of a bazillion Catholics who will march through the streets at lunch time to fill a cathedral on Ash Wednesday and what a possibly peculiar thing that is but also the reminder that maybe it isn't so much about what you necessarily believe but about rituals and tradition. I never know what I believe on any given day, but I believe in family and in growing up with certain traditions and that it's important to revisit those traditions sometimes. Thinking about that made it all a bit easier to stomach when the bishop went on and on about how we are all going to die physically but live on spiritually. It was a bit much to take on an empty, growling stomach that was dreaming of ordering a stir-fry as soon as this mass was ended and we went in peace. I found myself wondering about the people around me and the reasons why they were there. Was she a fervent believer with all of her heart? Was he there because he wanted to remember his mom or dad or grandma who used to take him to mass when he was little? Were they praying for sick relatives or friends? Were they there hoping that God exists and will save our country from this mess we're in? Were they there in case God exists so they won't go straight to hell? Who knows? Whatever the reasons, I did feel a little sense of community in that big church and with my colleagues as we returned to work with big black smudges in the middle of our foreheads.

This evening, I lay on the floor of my bedroom taking my bed apart, cursing and shaking out my throbbing hands as they turned purple from trying to unscrew totally shot screws with all sorts of sub-par tools. I wondered if there were some I would never be able to unscrew and about taking a hammer to them in blind rage. Finally, I got them all out. It was an Ash Wednesday/pliers miracle. Even though it was a huge pain, it felt good to do it all by myself, a very Mare Winningham in St. Elmo's Fire/her own peanut butter and jelly in her own apartment moment. My new bed is arriving tomorrow after 3.5 weeks of waiting for it; more on that later. I hope that it radically changes my life.

Oscars!

I love Hugh Jackman. His hosting stint at the 2004 Tony Awards remains one of the greatest performances I've ever seen on live television. I know you can do it, Hugh! So: his opening. Why aren't they lighting the audience when shots cut to them? That is pretty weird. The two best words that can come out of Hugh Jackman's mouth: "Opening Number." Hooray, here he goes! Oh dear, the worst two words that can come out of Hugh Jackman's mouth: "P-bic Hair." That is my only complaint about this opening number. Anne Hathway has gotten too thin, but she is being a great sport and I have liked her singing voice since she played Mary Poppins on SNL, and that was adorable. I think Hugh Jackman is cracking even himself up in this bizarro dancing number for The Reader. Oh my God, it just keeps getting better and better, and I can't keep up! Well, he said he wanted the Oscars to have more "show" and less "biz," and I think he has succeeded so far. I don't know how many ways I can say that I am actually, quite possibly, in real and complete love with Hugh Jackman. I will try to leave it at that.

Oh my God, the curtains are not opening. Well, that was fun! I like montages, but I wish they'd put the supporting actress clips in order instead of jumbling them all around! And ... another montage? Oh, it's because they're all presenting! Very cool and never been done as far as I remember. Whoopi's animal print dress is a nightmare. Tilda Swinton always looks like a gorgeous statue. Eva Marie Saint looks lovely in her white satin suit and does a nice job describing Viola Davis as Davis emotes silently from her seat with great power. I really, really like her. Anjelica Houston remains gorgeous, as does Penelope Cruz. So many damn gorgeous women! I am really sad about Whoopi's dress because her hair and make-up are nice, but that dress has both a horrible print and is one of the most unflattering things I have ever seen. Amy Adams, I love with all my heart. Oh, Goldie Hawn -- no. Just -- no. (Can I just say that we had Bird on a Wire on VHS when I was a kid and watched it all the time? Because we did.) Taraji P. Henson = also beautiful. (Are they seriously going to take this long with every category? Don't get me wrong, I like it! But it's so different and crazy!) Taking the time to really recognize each nominee is sort of stunning, really, and the nominees are so clearly moved. I think I am a fan of this strategy. We'll have to see how it goes for the rest of the night! And the Oscar goes to ... Penelope Cruz! Wow. I have to say I thought Viola Davis had it in the bag. Penelope's dress looks like a very pretty cloud. And now she is talking about art as the universal language, and I am crying!

This little typewriter silhouette introduction of Tina Fey and Steve Martin is fantastic! Wow, they are actually really trying to do something different this year, and I am really digging it. Tina Fey looks gorgeous and has a killer bod. Again with a dark audience shot, this time of Sophia Loren. What? Why? Shine some lights on these people! I always appreciate a good Scientology insult. Now they are doing the original screenplay nominees and superimposing typewritten text from the scripts onto the clips. Again, a stab at creativity. I appreciate this. IN BRUGES! I forgot this was nominated! Oh, In Bruges, I love you so very much. Oh, Milk. I feel fairly certain that this will win as the screenwriter is a wunderkind and the only one for years and years who has been able to pull Milk off. And, Dustin Lance Black wins for Milk, and I am glad. I loved Milk. Sean Penn is clapping so hard he might break his hands. This kid is adorable! And he calls it a "life-saving story," and really, it is. And now I am crying again. He says the story of Harvey Milk gave him the "hope that one day I could live my life as who I am and maybe even fall in love and get married." Gus Van Sant = in tears. His message to the gay kids: "You are beautiful, wonderful creatures of value, and no matter what anyone tells you, God does love you, and very soon, I promise you, you will have equal rights, federally, across this great nation of ours. Thank you, and thank you God for giving us Harvey Milk." And ... more tears!

It's time for best adapted screenplay. I might have to take a break because my nose is running after the last speech. I wish they would stop showing that Slumdog clip all the time for all the people who haven't seen it yet. Regardless, the screenwriter of Slumdog won and hooray for that! Is he wearing a rosary across his shirt or is that some kind of English thing? Nice speech, makes me want to watch the movie again.

Here are Jennifer Aniston and Jack Black. Jennifer is not wearing black for once in her life! Fantastic. She remains overly tan, but it's nice to see her hair pulled back somewhat from her face. I think she must hate her ears because she never shows them. Possibly she should not be paired with Jack Black doing stilted awkward presentation comedy, but still, props to her for strutting out there in front of freaking Brad & Angie and looking awesome. Wall-E wins best animated film to the surprise of absolutely no one. Oh dear, Jennifer & Jack are back. And they cut to the inevitable Brad and Angie's reaction shot. AWKWARD.

The band just played a snippet of "Cool" from West Side Story as Hugh walked back onstage. I'm fine with that. And now in another random pairing, Sarah Jessica Parker and Daniel Craig. Her formerly nonexistent bosoms are heaving in what I guess is a trick of her dress's stiff bodice. Daniel Craig's delivery is a bit stiff, and I am reminded of that strange MTV Awards show of yore where SJP hosted and sang lots of strange songs like "Pure Imagination" from Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory. Art direction goes to The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, which I have not seen. And they're sticking around for costume design ... okay. This is dragging, I'm sorry to report. The Duchess wins; haven't seen it because I try to avoid Ms. Knightley if possible. And they are STAYING FOR MAKE-UP. This is really a bit much, Jesus. Benjamin Button wins, no shock there. God love the artisans but their speeches are not very goozzzzz.

Robert Pattinson glowers way too much. Lift up your head, Robert! Stop furrowing your brow! You are not really Edward Cullen. The end. Amanda Seyfried is beautiful, but their presentation is kind of a dud. Cue romance montage! Nice to see Last Chance Harvey in there. And ... a dancing montage within a romance montage. Did they seriously insert a clip of Diaz and Kutcher dancing in What Happens in Vegas? Shameful. And HSM3? Really? And ... huge Sex & the City spoiler if you care about that sort of thing. I'm not super crazy about this montage if truth be told. And ... who's better than Jamal and Latika and Harvey and Scott? No one.

Natalie Portman and Ben Stiller presenting cinematography. Ben Stiller, of course, is dressed as crazy bearded Joaquin. Natalie Portman's dress sort of resembles a Barbie costume but it doesn't matter because she is always articulate and pretty. This is fairly ridiculous and ought not be dignified with my commentary. Winner: Slumdog.

I cannot see Seth Rogen & James Franco sit next to each other on a couch without seeing Ken and Daniel Desario. They amuse me no matter what they're doing, actually. Now Franco as Pineapple Express guy is watching Franco as Scott Smith making out with Sean Penn, and it's good. And there's Jason Segel, and now the freaks are back together as they should be! I found that entire thing very enjoyable.

It is time for another musical number, and not soon enough for me. And it's a medley of songs from musicals. Oh dear, it's Beyonce. Who appears to be lip-synching. And I just do not approve of that, there is no excuse for it. No excuse! I don't really want to see Beyonce dancing in high cut red sequins, either. She is grinding on Hugh Jackman. This is not good. Hugh Jackman is better than this. I am embarrassed. And there are the High School Musical kids who are actually very cute -- now they are doing a juxtaposition of "I Don't Know How to Love Him" and "Can't Stop the Beat" (!?!?) and this is wrong. And Amanda Seyfried is barely getting to sing at all! Oh God, Beyonce ruins everything. I wanted to love this, I really did. But I can't. Nice idea, horrible costumes, repugnant execution. If I were not already fan of musicals, I think this would make me swear them off for all eternity.

I need a moment to recover. Now it's time for best supporting actor. Javier Bardem is very handsome. Past winners who are presenting: Christopher Walken, Alan Arkin, Joel Gray, Cuba Gooding, Jr., and Kevin Kline, all adorable. I wonder who will get to talk about Heath? Oh DEAR, Alan Arkin totally flubbed and said "Seymour Phillip Hoffman." Who is weird a very silly hat, by the way, sort of like the very tight crotch of a pair of black panty hose. Diane Lane is so gorgeous and seems to be very in love with James Brolin. John Mayer is sitting next to the couple and applauding very enthusiastically for Brolin. Robert Downey, Jr.'s wife is extremely pretty. And ... Christopher Walken is now sporting a bob. Kevin Kline is talking about Heath, and as he is basically the most articulate man on earth, I think it's a fitting choice. Nice tribute. And dispensing with all suspense, Arkin presents it right away to Heath Ledger, and his parents and sister are accepting. Oh, dear. I fear the tears will flow. Adrian Brody is fully crying. How does a mother stand up and speak about her dead son? This is almost unbearable to watch, everyone is crying, and they're accepting the award on behalf of his "beautiful Matilda."

Okay, gathering myself. I love documentaries very much, and I am glad they got such careful attention in that segment. Bill Maher is just so obnoxious. I currently have Encounters at the End of the World from Netflix and look forward to watching it soon.

((Missed some stuff while talking to my little brother about the atrocity that was the musicals tribute.))

The Slumdog sound mixer might be my favorite speech of the night so far. I am a sucker for the sincerely speechless winners. Film editing also goes to Slumdog, and Freida and Dev are bouncing and waving, which is adorable, just like they always are. As the band plays us out to commercial with Aimee Mann's "Momentum," I wonder if maybe these random songs the band is using were Oscar winners or nominees, but I don't think this one was, so I don't know what's going on there.

((Missed some stuff.))

Now it's time for best song. Love the dancers and the whole thing for the first Slumdog song. As for John Legend and the Wall-E song, am I the only one with a bit of a crush on John Legend? And now it's time for "Jai Ho," HOORAY! I don't know how any folks can hear this song and not feel their heart begin to explode somewhat. And now they are doing "Jai Ho" with the Wall-E song, and it sounds about a thousand times better than the odious song mixtures of Hugh & Beyonce. Yay! That was fun. Surely "Jai Ho" will in. And it does! Awesome. The composer, A.R. Rahman, beautifully said that the "essence of the film is about optimism and the power of hope in our lives ... all my life I've had a choice of hate or love. I chose love. And I'm here. God bless."

And now for the moment my brother's been waiting for all night ... Freida Pinto! Best foreign language film ... I am always a little late on these as they usually haven't opened here by the time the Oscar show airs. The Japanese film wins. I always enjoy the speeches for these because often times the winners don't speak great English and they are always super psyched.

Queen Latifah has a very pretty voice, but I think I prefer an instrumental behind the memorial clips. Waiting on Paul Newman to finish it off ... and there he is, with the most applause, and he's the only one who gets dialogue. The empty spotlight = a moving touch.

Here's Reese Witherspoon wearing a dress that's not the cutest I've ever seen. Are we even pretending Danny Boyle is not going to win? David Fincher isn't, as he just practically rolled his eyes when they called Fincher's name. Danny Boyle it is! And he just jumped like Tigger, and it was very cute.

Best Actress! Sophia Loren, Shirley MacLaine, Halle Berry, Nicole Kidman, and Marion Cotillard, presenters. Randomly: the theme from Gone with the Wind. MacLaine does Hathaway, and Hathway and I cry. Cotillard does Winslet, and there's more crying all around. Berry does Melissa Leo, and I'm a little annoyed that her speech started being all about her! Oh, well. I am not nuts about Melissa Leo's hair, but as I've said before, viva Kay Howard. Loren does Streep with her HAND ON HER HIP. Kidman does Jolie with feathers on her chest. Kate Winslet wins for The Reader. She is hugging all five presenters, get a move on, Kate. Her dress, like Reese's, is sort of dark blue and black and not that cute. She has looked better, but she is very emotional and her dad just whistled for her and that was fantastic. She is super stoked and just one of my favorites ever since she was Marianne Dashwood.

Best Actor! Presenters are Robert DeNiro, Ben Kingsley, Anthony Hopkins, Adrien Brody, and Michael Douglas, and everyone is applauding for each of them THUNDEROUSLY. Normally I don't care for the hogging of awards, and I know Sean Penn won recently for Mystic River, but I thought he was wonderful as Harvey Milk, and I hope he wins. I wanted him to win for Dead Man Walking. Robin Wright Penn = still hot. DeNiro is talking about his achievements and antics as a human being, not just an actor, which is a little weird, if you ask me, for this moment. Oh, I forgot about Richard Jenkins! I would be tickled if he were to win! He was wonderful in The Visitor! Oh, Mickey Rourke. I would comment on his outfit, hair, jewelry, glasses, etc., but at this late hour, words fail me. Very nice tribute by Ben Kingsley, I have to say! And ... Sean Penn. Well, he didn't go to kiss Robin so she grabbed his face and kissed him on the mouth. Bravo, Robin. I feel like they are applauding Harvey Milk as much as Penn, really. The cute screenwriter is crying. Sean Penn, I do not care for your all-black tuxedo. Thank your wife, Sean, thank your wife! Please. Please, please, please. And ... he didn't thank his wife.

Best Picture at last. Very nice montage interspersing the nominees with past films with similar themes. Winner: Slumdog Millionaire. And the kids are storming the stage, where they belong. And the producer just kissed baby Salim on the head. Dev Patel is holding baby Latika. And now they're showing scenes from upcoming movies. Whoever decided to put Johnny Depp and Christian Bale in the same movie gets my vote for best casting decision. The movie I'm most looking forward to is Sunshine Cleaning. And ... that's a wrap.

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.

Decluttering, etc.

This weekend I went bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-s. I decided I needed to declutter my house as much as possible in a tornadic burst of activity. I washed and ironed my bedroom and living room curtains. I went through shoebox after shoebox of old photos, trashing many of them, along with every set of negatives dating back 20+ years. I cleaned out three, count 'em, three junk drawers in my kitchen. Why did I have seven wrenches? I'll never know. Goodbye, wrenches. I went through a giant box of old videotapes. I went through a stack of old magazines. I washed a giant hamper full of clothes that had been sitting in a closet for over a year. (Horrible, I know, right? True confession time!) I went through two boxes actually labeled with the words "Misc. Crap." I filed, tossed, and bagged/boxed for St. Vincent de Paul. 

It's not like you walk into my house and think, "CLUTTER!" It's because it's all stashed away in drawers, cabinets, and closets. And every time I would pull something out to go through, I'd realize there was something else behind it. It was like a horrible multiplication of mess. So many boxes ... I can't even really believe it. I threw out ancient TV Guides and ancient TV Guide clippings about shows like Beauty and the Beast and Life Goes On. I found my Disney World ID and Disney name tag and Edelweiss seeds purchased in 1998 in Salzburg on The Sound of Music tour. My sister still has hers, too, bought separately from me, and we resolved to plant them in pots on the same day, even though I have no idea if seeds stay alive in little packets for eleven years. I found four very pretty rosaries, and I have no memory of where they came from. 

So I made a lot of progress, but it's basically invisible progress because most of it was hidden away. I am comforted to know that my closets are less full and that I am now free of some of the many things I had but no longer wanted or needed. I still have a long way to go ... I just found a giant box of playbills and theater programs dating back to young childhood. (Sigh.)

Meanwhile, last week, I dropped my iPhone on the very hard tile floor outside my office elevator, and it went splat. The home button stopped working, the ring sounded like something gasping for air from a vat of quicksand, the person on the other line couldn't hear me at all, and it wouldn't sync to iTunes. It was a sad day indeed. I made an appointment at the store, fully expecting to be told my warranty had expired two weeks prior and I was SoL. When the guy said that my warranty just expired two weeks ago and he would swap it out, "just this once," I practically started weeping right there on my stool. It was a Genius Bar miracle. Thank you, Eric at the Apple store! 

I can't focus on anything else to write. The Visitor is quite a good movie. The performances are amazing, and it is quite moving. I got it because it was written and directed by the guy who did The Station Agent, which I adored, and it didn't disappoint. And I am so glad that Colin Farrell won the Golden Globe (read Kymm's great recap) last night for In Bruges. I have been telling anyone who'll listen about how fantastic he was in this movie for months, and I am so glad the whole world knows it now! And his speech was delightful and divine, and I love him. 

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.

2 days into '09

Ah ... 2009. So far, so good. New Year's Eve was spent turning in early after turkey and sausage gumbo and spinach pie with B. at my parents' house. On day one of the new year, I slept in and then treated myself to a matinee of Milk, which I'd been wanting to see for months. It did not disappoint. My most powerful encounter with the story of Harvey Milk will always be catching the documentary The Times of Harvey Milk on TV by accident and learning the story for the first time, but this was an excellent movie and I'm very glad I saw it. It made me very sad, both the way it ended, of course, and thinking about how little things have changed despite how hard Harvey Milk and his colleagues fought. I mean, sure, a lot has changed, but clearly, as we saw so disgustingly this year, a lot also hasn't. I wish this movie were getting more press and were open on more screens because I think it's important. The cast was great ... Emile Hirsch particularly impressed me -- it was hard to recognize him as the same kid who played Alexander Supertramp. 

After going to see Milk, I went over to my parents' house to continue to feast on leftovers. My mom wrote thank you notes for wedding-related kindnesses while watched Enchanted. She, unsurprisingly, found it delightful. Later that night, we continued eating still more leftovers and watched Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day; both of my parents really liked it, as I knew they would. What is not to like? I've now seen that movie four times and could easily watch it again today. It's wonderful. Kymm Zuckert, I am not sure what you are waiting for! This is your kind of movie.

After packing in three movies in the course of one day and falling asleep to Sarah Vowell's story of the Puritans, this morning I got up relatively early and headed out for a run. After about a mile, I decided that the morning fog, while very cool looking, was a bit creepy. I argued with myself for a while about whether turning around due to basically zero visibility was neurotic or sensible, and I came down on the side of sensible, ran a mile back home, and turned on Jillian Michaels for the rest of the workout. Oh, how level one still pains me so! My arms basically burst into flames, but I soldiered through. 

I showered and headed to the coffee shop to meet my old friend Herpreet, with whom I had a nice two-hour visit out on the patio. It is always nice to see her and to catch up with someone you've known for a million years. Old friends are so important, and I need to never forget that.

Then I headed over to S.'s to help get ready for a gathering at her parents' house tonight and eat handfuls of her mother's amazing white chocolate peppermint candy. I have to say, when the holidays well and truly come to a close and all friends and relatives have finally returned to their homes far away and all of the leftovers are gone and I return to work and real life, I might have to cry a little bit. 

I hope to post some pictures soon ... now I must get ready to head back to S.'s house for the gumbo event, which leads up to the Party of the Century tomorrow night. 

Updating on a cold, rainy night.

I'm going to go ahead and shoot straight with you. The weather is heinous. It's 42 degrees outside and raining but it feels like -42 and is so vile it could potentially make my mood vile as well, but I am newly resolved not to be in a vile mood anymore!

I have been in a vile mood for several days. I have been very ants in my pants about the contractor coming and finally replacing my Gustav-damaged ceilings. I feared sheetrock dust exploding into every corner of the house, totally disrupting the pets' lives, and not being able to shower because the bathtub would be full of fallen insulation. After tossing and turning all night, I finally threw myself out of bed pre-dawn and covered beds and shower heads and counters with plastic and moved rugs and hauled crap around trying to move as much as I could out of the way of the onslaught of mess and pain. Only to have the contractor's dudes arrive, take one look at the ceiling and make one quick crawl around the attic and declare that I don't even need new ceilings! What? Yes. No. I should just treat them with something and repaint them. Oooookay. I know this is good news, but it is not what I was told before and it kind of made my head spin after preparing mentally all these months to spend the money and face the mess. They said if the mold didn't grow back after I cleaned it up then it wasn't moldy and all the brown spots are just stains. They said everything in the attic is dry. Well, eff me! Okay. I am going to treat this all as a good thing and count myself blessed.

Right now I am sitting on the couch in sweats eating wheat thins, baby carrots dipped in zesty lemon hummos, and scrambled eggs and cheese. This is a very comforting dinner. I am listening to Sufjan Stevens' Christmas music which for some reason I am only listening to for the first time this year, and I could not possibly love it more. My absolute favorite is "Holy, Holy, Holy," which is a hymn, not a Christmas carol, as far as I'm concerned, but I still love it. I have now listened to it approximately fifty times in the past 2 days. I made copies for my sister, a girlfriend, and both of my parents. It is making me really happy. I don't know the first fat thing about Sufjan Stevens, but apparently I love him. I am trying to figure out who sings the backup harmonies on this song, but I have no idea. Anyone?

I'm not sure what else has been going on. Work is kind of zany for me this time of year because of a holiday project. I got a little overwhelmed with my last week of school work but at this point I am over that. I finished When You Are Engulfed in Flames yesterday, and I am already nostalgic for it. I can't stop baking mint chocolate cookies. I took 9 days off of running and started it up again last week. So far, I have not died, though I have on occasion felt like I might. I am very excited to see Milk and Slumdog Millionaire. I put up Christmas lights! They are very pretty. I am afraid of both fire and electrocution, so this was a big step for me. I blithely hung them up many years ago when I first moved in, but I've avoided it in recent years because I am a big fraidy cat, but I just went ahead and did it, and they look beautiful and nothing catastrophic has happened yet. I am going to take this as a good sign for the holidays ahead.

Catching Up

It hasn't been the healthiest week in the history of my life. Last night, I woke up at 2:30 a.m. and was wide awake. I think this insomnia resulted from a week of no running (resting the shins), which resulted in major restlessness, along with the consumption of a steady diet of chocolate mint brownies, Thanksgiving leftovers for about a dozen meals in a row, and Fa La La La Lifetime. I decided to turn on the light and read Coraline, which I did in its entirety. I'm not sure if this book is normally terrifying, but it definitely is in the middle of the night. Terrifying and AWESOME. I can't wait to read the graphic novel version of the book and to see the movie.

I haven't written in so long that I'm not sure where to start. The past few weeks have been filled with running, then abruptly not running. Worked a Habitat day one Saturday. Got to help build and raise walls, which was pretty great. Thanksgiving was small but very nice. I saw Atonement, which was both very lovely and very annoying in ways. Today I took my favorite almost five-year-old to see Bolt 3D, which was fun, especially when she did cute child things like reach her hands out try and touch the 3D-ness. I've been spending the past few days working on homework, which has been a drag but a necessary one. I'm in the middle of reading Watchmen, which I only understand about every other page of, but I'm sticking with it.

My little brother and I did year two of our pre-Thanksgiving afternoon movie tradition ... this year was Role Models, and it made us laugh and laugh and laugh. Mostly because of McLovin, who has to be one of the most endearing kids every to be on screen. I don't remember his name in this movie, but he was adorable, and the movie, though stupid at times, actually had a sweet gooey center, largely to due to long, ridiculous scenes of role-playing wars and kings and knights and whatnot.

Today is December 1. I hope to start the week and month off on a healthier note and hope my shins don't break when I try to run on them tomorrow. I need to get my school shit together. I need to not freak out at the monster work holiday project because it always works out somehow year after year. I need to not kill my dog when he wakes up in the middle of the night two nights in a row to go out and potty but refuses to actually potty but rather stands there and looks at me like, "Who, me?" while I stand shivering in my pajamas. I need to get into the holiday spirit and get pumped for all of the fun events of the coming month, mainly my sister's wedding which should be grand. I guess that's about it for now. I'm gonna shut this down because I have a date with a David Sedaris book. But first, a few recent pics:

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.

Catching up

Having an iced coffee before my little brother and I head out to see the Rent film. I am looking forward to it, though I'm not sure what to expect. We had to design TV channels in my 9th grade mass media class, and mine was a Broadway channel -- all shows, all the time, sort of a pay-per-view situation. I thought it was a swell idea at age 13, and I remember one obnoxious boy saying during the class critique that it wouldn't be the same as being in the theater. Well, duh. I just hope the Rent film (filmed on stage) is not too much like a music video. That frightens me.

It is so beautiful outside it's hard not to be in a decent mood these days. On Friday evening, B. and I ordered a chicken pesto pizza and settled in to watch the first presidential debate. We yelled at the TV a lot and applauded a lot. What I keep thinking about is how at least Obama attempted to look at and address McCain directly sometimes while McCain never did once, at least not that I noticed. And I wonder if that was intentional strategy -- McCain's way of saying Obama isn't worth his attention because "HE JUST DOESN'T GET IT" -- or just McCain being a wuss. I haven't watched much debate commentary because I saw a McCain advisor triumphantly concluding right after the debate that Obama is out of touch with mainstream America and I thought I was going to go blind. I just get too emotional. That said, I can't wait for Thursday's vice presidential debate, during which my friend predicts Palin will be a "hot mess all over the screen!"

Yesterday is kind of a blur ... I did homework and watched the highlights of the first season of The Rosie O'Donnell Show. Oh, I got a new roof! I got a new roof on Friday. Which I love, although I stepped on two giant roofing nails this morning in my front yard and luckily I had on thick-soled sneakers and the nails went between my toes instead of into my foot. I am going to call the roofer tomorrow and see if he can send someone back out with the magnet broom.

Last night, we ate dinner outside on a restaurant patio (miso soup, sushi rolls, and a macadamia nut chicken salad) and went to see Burn Before Reading. I both liked and didn't like it. It was worth seeing for Brad Pitt alone.

:::

(Later in the day ...) My brother and I just got back from the Rent film. WOW! Talk about exceeding all expectations. I thought that Roger was a little too pretty. That said, most of the cast knocked my socks off both vocally and acting-wise. The standout, far and away, was Renee Elise Goldsberry as Mimi. Which surprised me because I always mistakenly thought she was sort of a bland presence based on my limited viewings of her on One Life to Live. I could not have been more wrong about her. Not only was her singing voice fantastic, she completely looked the part from head to toe and acted circles around everyone else on stage. Not that the other actors weren't good because some of them definitely were -- but she was on a whole different level. She really impressed me and I'm so glad I got to see her performing this character. The other standouts for me were Michael McElroy as Collins and Justin Johnston as Angel. They were so wonderful in "I'll Cover You" that they made me not even miss Jesse L. Martin and Wilson Jermaine Heredia. Of course, they'll always be those characters in my heart, but the ones I saw today brought the same kind of beautiful performances and chemistry to that pair. Impressive, I am telling you. IMPRESSIVE. Michael McElroy's voice=beautiful. Of course, nothing beats seeing theater live, but this was a real treat, and I am so glad we went.

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Last night before Burn After Reading, of course there were trailers. The only one that made me sit up and pay attention was the one for Milk. I accidentally caught The Times of Harvey Milk (Oscar-winning documentary) on PBS several years ago, and it has stayed with me. I am really looking forward to seeing Milk (or as much as I can look forward to something that I am sure will ultimately be devastating.) If nothing else, I think it's an important story of an important life that more people need to hear. The documentary is definitely worth seeing, and it's available from Netflix and in 10 parts on YouTube.

And now I am going to eat the tofu pepper stir fry I just made, wash stinky towels that were trapped in a bathroom cabinet whose ceiling was molding unbeknownst to me, and prepare to face the week ahead.

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.

Lunch break

Having an iced coffee for lunch in order to use coffee shop's wireless, which I still don't have at home. Damn you, Gustav! I just hope it comes back before this weekend because cable TV's still not working either and I need to see Mad Men win a lot of Emmys on Sunday night.

First of all, thanks for your encouraging comments on my last post. They mean a lot to me.

I feel like I'd like to say a few more things. I just want to be clear that I don't think all McCain supporters are evil meanies. My parents, for example, are people I love and respect beyond measure. They have their own personal reasons for believing what they do, and they are not hateful about it. I really do respect that we all have our own personal reasons for supporting the candidates we do, and I don't paint all McCain supporters or Republicans with a big, barfy brush. The men in the coffee shop = assholes. All McCain supporters = not assholes. I understand this and just want to make sure I state it explicitly.

Later that day, I went to a baby shower where I had a nice conversation with an engineering professor about the situation, and it was nice to touch base with someone on the same page as I am. Still later, I was at the gas pump and a woman complimented me on my Obama shirt, and we had a nice chat. It was a nice way to balance out the ugliness of the morning's encounter.

Two of my heroes have written about this lately: Eve Ensler and Anne Lamott. Check them out.

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So far, I've done Jillian Michaels' 30-Day Shred three times. I know Jillian from The Biggest Loser, and Linda recommended the DVD. The first time, I did it without hand weights and thought, "This isn't hard at all! What is everyone complaining about?" Ha. Ha, ha, ha. The next two times, I did it with three-pound hand weights. Which doesn't sound very heavy, I know. But ow. That's really all I can say. Also, I can't do the squats where you put one leg behind the other, squat, and do bicep curls as it makes my back knee feel like it's going to snap in two. So I just put my feet shoulder length apart, squat, and do the bicep curls that way. The great thing about this video is that you're done in about 20 minutes. The bad thing about it is that it makes me realize what a wimp I am. But I'm working on it. I love when Jillian barks about things like "FALSE MESSAGES OF LETHARGY." It fires me up, it truly does. I'm not doing it every day (alternating with Punch, Kick, and Jam, gelato, jogging outside, french fries, weights at the gym, and chocolate chip cookies), but it's definitely good in a pinch. Note: I do these workouts in my living room, which has very hard ceramic tile flooring with no give whatsoever. I simply cannot do repeated jumping jacks and butt kicks and jump roping on that kind of floor without severe ankle and knee pain. For some reason, even running on concrete roads and sidewalks is easier than that. So I throw down the yoga mat and do the serious pavement pounding exercises on it. It really helps, though I'm not sure it's entirely safe as sometimes the mat feels like it might go flying. And three-pound weights are definitely heavy enough for me right now because of the many reps ... I don't think I could complete the circuits with a heavier hand weight right now. If that makes me a wuss, so be it.

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B. and I started Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day and turned it off after the first 30 minutes. I finished it later on my own, and all I have to say is DON'T give up on this movie. It is so much more than it initially seems. There is a shift after the first third or so, and suddenly what seems really silly becomes more serious, and the performances are wonderful and it's really moving and I loved it! I highly recommend it. Amy Adams and Frances McDormand are unsurprisingly great and give wonderfully nuanced, layered, heartfelt, heartbreaking, and funny performances, and Lee Pace -- wow. Lee Pace. If you've never seen him as anything but Ned on Pushing Daisies, you already know he's fantastic, but he's REALLY GOOD in this movie. His English accent is perfect, at least to my ears, and when his character really comes onto the scene about 40 minutes in, it's what really snaps this movie into place. Everything about his performance in this screams Future Movie Star in the most beautiful possible way. Give this movie a chance ... it really lifted my spirits and put pep in my step. I liked it so much I watched every special feature and listened to the director's commentary and then started the movie over for the third time. I am becoming attached, so much so that I feel emotionally incapable of returning it to Netflix.

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I don't know what else to say. The weather has turned in the past few days; I am sure it will get hot again, but it's been such a welcome change in the air. I still do not have a new roof or a roofer or anything fixed on my house, and I am growing accustomed to the mold smell. It's just incapacitating, somehow, deciding how and when to do all this and how to pay for it. And I'm still really ill about and saddened by Gustav and Ike in general and by what they did to my state and to Texas.

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In other news, before Gustav came along and ate all of my money with his giant ridiculous should be illegal deductible and in spite of the fact it might cause me to fail both of my classes, I bought a plane ticket to Hawaii. Where I am going very soon. Like some kind of lunatic. Who cannot wait.

Misc. Thoughts

(1) I am sitting in my favorite coffee shop on a Sunday afternoon with my headphones in and an iced coffee. It is a good way to spend an afternoon.

(2) This morning while running three miles outside and sweating my face off, I started to push myself to continue with all sorts of irrational but inspirational thoughts. It is what I do; it is the only way I can keep from veering off to the side of the road and hurling myself face-first into someone's bed of caladiums. This morning my thoughts of fortitude were mainly focused on the women's Olympic marathoners, whose race B. and I caught part of over appetizers (pesto bread, hummus) and Blue Moons last night. When I was struggling to get my breathing into a normal rhythm and feeling like my facial capillaries were boiling beneath my skin not unlike molten lava, I thought about that runner who got the foot cramp in the middle of the race. And I said to myself, "Self, I'm sure that foot cramping marathoner would not be complaining about the opportunity to run at a snail's pace like you around these beautiful lakes so just get a grip on yourself and finish your measly three miles!" It helped, it truly did.

(3) It's been a nice weekend so far. On Friday evening, we got take-out and watched Smart People. I both liked and didn't like it, mostly veering on the side of like. My main complaint is that the romance between Dennis Quaid and Sarah Jessica Parker was soulless and unbelievable, but other than that, I liked the quirk of the characters and the overall film. It was nice to see Ellen Page in a pre-Juno role; she was excellent, as was the always reliable and hilarious Thomas Haden Church. Saturday morning, we woke up early; I went running wanted to stop at two miles but told myself, "If you can run 2 miles, you can run 3." So I did. I ate some leftover stir-fry for lunch, returned some graphic novels to the library, bought a visor to run in to help with the blinding summer glare, and took a long nap. After appetizers yesterday evening, B. and I headed to the wedding reception of a school friend, which was in a backyard and was beautifully laid back and relaxing ... as far as I'm concerned, backyard wedding receptions are the way to go ... had a very nice time except now kicking myself not to have applied bug spray now that I'm sporting about 25 new mosquito welts ... I should know better. I wish there were some kind of natural way to protect oneself against bug bites or something I could eat or drink that would make them think, "This blood is going to be foul, let's move along."

(4) I just finished reading the reissue of The President's Daughter. As I've written before, I have a long history with this series. I have my original copies from the mid-1980s. They are tattered, torn, and deeply beloved by me. The author came upon those entries and e-mailed me about five years ago, saying that she was writing a fourth book in the series, which has since come out. The books were reprinted several years back with truly odious covers (and if I'm not mistaken, the pages were basically xeroxed copies of the original pages), and the latest reissues have much better covers, are all-around first class in quality, and have been revised/updated by the author to add modern things like the Internet. And I'm thrilled that they're back in print and I hope a whole new generation of readers embraces them. Truly. And I am fine with certain updates to bring them into modern times. And I almost want to hold my tongue about this because I have loved these books for most of my life, and I love them still. But the little tweaks to the Preston stuff in the first book really bothered me. I don't like how when describing him, something like "and he's so handsome" was added, and I don't like how Meg talks about having a crush on him. These are very minor and short-lived little moments in the book, but they leapt out at me and made me squirm a little bit. It is clear when reading book four that now that Meg is an adult, a different kind of relationship with Preston is inching into the realm of being conceivable. That's not a spoiler; it doesn't happen in the book -- after all, she is still only 18 in book four -- but it starts to vaguely feel not altogether out of the realm of possibility. And I'm fine with that. Truly. I just do not believe the seeds needed to go back and retroactively be planted in book one when she is 15. Preston was already portrayed in books 1-3 as a wonderful, cool, hip guy who was their family's best friend -- in other words, we already know how important he is to Meg and what a rock he is for their family -- we just don't need the handsome, crush, etc. stuff that early on in the game, and I wish it would not have been added. (I always, always, always assumed Preston was gay, and learning that he is not really threw me for a loop, and so I'm starting all of these thoughts from a little bit of a discombobulated place anyway, for that reason.) I am almost frightened to see if more of these little hints about him are placed in the next two books. ANYWAY -- other than that, I loved reading the reissue, and I can't wait to start the second and third, because these books get better and better as they go along.

(5) Later ... I guess that is about it for now. B. made pesto and it's time to eat!

Motivation

I went to the gym today to go running. Lucky for me, I caught the last fifteen minutes or so of A Knight's Tale, which are a great fifteen minutes to keep your feet moving, even with no sound and with closed captioning. It occurred to me as I watched the end of this movie (SPOILER ALERT) that this is actually a really good movie. When the prince knights Heath Ledger's character, it's genuinely moving. And when Heath Ledger fights Rufus Sewell in the final duel (my sorrow at seeing Rufus Sewell play a villain is deep, true, and documented), it's genuinely thrilling. At least it was to me on the treadmill today. The thing I like about this movie is even though it's a silly Middle Ages romp with modern rock music (and even though Shannyn Sossamon can't really hold her own with the rest of the cast, her gorgeousness notwithstanding), the actors play it all completely straight. The reactions of the prince, the crowd, and especially his friends to William's ultimate knighting and victory are so heartfelt and loving and real (how awesome is Paul Bettany as Chaucer?), and Heath Ledger never lets on that this is really a silly movie. He acts like it really matters to his character that his dad heard him being addressed as "sir." It is easy, looking back, to see why this was the movie that made Heath Ledger a star. I really liked him, and he moved me in both silly and serious films, and I am very sad that he died.

And this is more than I ever thought I would say about A Knight's Tale, for pete's sake. But it, along with the Olympic footage of the U.S./China water polo match and the women cycling in the rain under the Great friggin' Wall of China, really motivated me today to run three miles instead of two, the longest I've gone since resuming exercising this summer. So that felt great. This evening I went to yoga with my dad and we did so much floor work that my forehead started becoming permanently attached to my mat and had pains shooting through it, so that was a less pleasant fitness experience, but what're you gonna do?

I guess all I can do is prepare to watch Mad Men and face the week ahead. And make these (I used chocolate chip cookie dough and alternated mini-Reese's cups, Rolos, and regular Hershey's Kisses, and they were easy and delicious and perfect). And try to watch as much Olympic gymnastic footage as humanly possible because it is awesome. My older brother texted us in excitement when Li Ning lit the Olympic cauldron because we were glued to the gymnastics coverage in 1984 along with the rest of the universe, for that was the year of Li Ning and Bart Connor and Mary Lou Retton and MITCH GAYLORD. Seeing Li Ning was like seeing an old friend. It was funny that my brother remembered that summer. That made me happy. And now, for nostaglia's sake ... remember, she needed a perfect 10 to get the gold medal:

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.

D.C. Day 1

Character-building moments while traveling.

(1) Realizing that getting into an empty metro train at the airport and spreading my luggage out meant that I would have to end up holding my little rolling backpack on my lap once people started pouring in. So wheels on my lap. Wheels that had rolled through two airports, multiple airport bathrooms, and a metro station. On my jeans. One leg of which has a small hole in it through which the plastic wheel was touching my skin. I tried to be brave and un-germophobic like Robyn (seriously -- I am in awe) but it was really hard. I felt myself about to burst into tears. I held this bag on my lap to make room for a soldier of some kind to perch himself next to me while balanced on one buttcheek because my other bag was also in the way but my lap is only so big. I thought to myself, "At least I am making room for a soldier." I felt, not unlike Sharon Cooper and Louis DiMucci, that I was doing it for my country.

(2) Realizing I would have to veer from my sister's explicit instructions and switch trains because it's rush hour. This makes me itchy and frantic because I don't know what in the hell I'm doing. I remind myself that I have navigated subway stations in Paris, Rome, and New York, albeit unsuccessfully sometimes, and to get a goddammed grip. I finally figured out what other train to ride and found the Starbucks at which I'm supposed to be waiting for her.

(3) As I'm standing at the counter ordering my grapefruit spritzer in a bottle or whatever the hell it is, I ask for a cup of ice. One barista calls out to another that I need a cup of ice. She ignores her. She ignores her time and again. Finally I say: CAN I PLEASE HAVE A CUP OF ICE? She wiped her paw all over her face including her nose and then got me my cup of ice, mauling the lid with her hand in the process by pressing it on way more times than it needed to be. I sighed and told myself that this is a part of food and beverage service and that the ice itself is probably dirty and to chill out. (The germophobia spirals ... it starts with a dirty bag on the lap and snowballs into further irrationality from there.)

(4) As I'm settling in at Starbucks preparing to plug in my laptop whose battery ran out on the plane while watching the special features of In Bruges (more on that later, wow), a man makes a dive for the plug at the same time, coughing tubercularly without covering his mouth and pulling an actual jambox out of his large duffel bag to plug in. By this point I'd had it, so I said, "EXCUSE ME," and plugged in my laptop first. I wasn't trying to be rude but I think I might have been, a little. Of course there are two sockets, one on top of the other, so we could share, but for some reason I felt like I had to go first if he was going to kneel down there and cough wetly on my brand new running shoes. I have no idea what he needed to hear so badly on the radio but all he could get was loud, jarring static so he left, thankfully. I was not feeling like the nicest version of myself.

(5) In keeping with my seat-hogging tradition, a little girl asks if she can have my other chair so I move one of my bags off of it. She proceeds to stand on the chair, not sit, peering over the counter and yelling hello to the ignoring, face wiping barista, and then she knocks over my bottle of grapefruit spritzer! And it spills on the table, millimeters from this very laptop. I was so aghast that I just blinked in shock while her mom or caregiver or whoever she was cleaned it up and told the girl not to stand on the chair again which the girl proceeded immediately to do. Which only leads me to ask as I sit here: WHAT KIND OF STARBUCKS IS THIS?

My mom thinks that putting up with other people in the world teaches us virtue. And I think that I am a normally pretty tolerant person. I really cannot stand when people act completely put out that other people live in the world … stand in line in front of them, stop at red lights in front of them, etc. After all, other people DO live in the world and we must all try to live in harmony. I really do believe that, and I think that people who get mad at kids in restaurants and grocery stores are giant assholes. But when people start coughing and spilling on me, that is where I draw the line. Is that wrong?

Okay – In Bruges! This movie is so fantastic! I read Heavy Liquid and V for Vendetta and Serenity: Those Left Behind for the first few hours of travel, all of which were good, but I needed a break from the freaking comics so I put a movie in on the way here, and In Bruges … like I said, wow. Okay, I won't give anything away. So I'll just say that I have a deep appreciation for Colin Farrell that heretofore I never imagined possible. He was brilliant. Brilliant, I am telling you. He gave one of those performances where you can see a million different tiny emotions from his heart and thoughts from his head all over his face at any moment, in all the right places. I thought it was a revelatory and incredible performance. The rest of the cast was great, too, but he made my jaw drop. I am trying to think of someone his charisma and nuance reminded me of, and all I can come up with was Robert Downey, Jr. at his best. He was funny and heartbreaking. I was laughing out loud on the plane. Even though it's not always easy to watch. I will say that. But wow! I liked it so much.

And …. now the girl at the next table is taking off her nailpolish and re-painting her nails with reckless abandon. What kind of a person opens a bottle of nail polish remover in a crowded, small, hot coffee shop in June? I can never return to this Starbucks. Ever.

---

It's now later and I'm showered and calm. We went to eat at Rice, which was delicious even though my basil, tofu, and vegetable concoction over purple rice set my lips aflame and made me sweat profusely. She bought red and yellow gerber daisies and is taking great care of me. I love the look of the buildings in her neighborhood. We're about to watch the results show of So You Think You Can Dance (we think Comfort & Chris should go), and life is good.

This is going to be one weird summer.

Weekends!

This past one was an early birthday/bon voyage celebration and started with a mix-up of Elizabeth's famous bourbon slush. I decided to halve the recipe, so it went like this: 4 cups of water, 1/2 cup of frozen lemonade (thawed), 1/2 cup of frozen orange juice (thawed), 1/2 cup of bourbon, 1/2 cup of sugar. Freeze in plastic pitcher. It was frozen by morning, and we enjoyed it all weekend. This is the perfect summer drink treat.

Friday afternoon, we headed out for pizza with one of B.'s school friends and his fiancée. Blue moons and pizza were consumed and presidential politics was discussed. Then we watched Battlestar Galactica, which frankly was as dull as dishwater. It seemed like a lot happened, but it all happened so utterly boringly that I could not care. We also started The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, but I slept through most of the first half. I blame the Blue Moons.

On Saturday morning, we headed out to the farmer's market for muffins, lemon scones, garlic cheese biscuits, and coffee. At some point, we finished The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, which was so utterly gorgeous and profoundly moving that I wept throughout. I loved every performance in the movie, especially Max von Sydow's. Highly recommended. We had lunch at one of our favorite sandwich places and listened to the guitar man play the theme from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly on his fiddle very beautifully. B. went for a massage, and when I went to pick him up, I saw the teacher of my old circuit class!!!!! He gave me his card and I really hope to check out his new gym. B. said, "She loved that class," and I said, "I did. I really did." In the immortal words of my teacher, "Love yourself!"

That afternoon, we went to a reception at an art gallery where for some reason I almost had a heat stroke even though normally I'd be all about visiting a labyrinth, and then we went out to dinner. We had shrimp over eggplant and angel hair pasta and some other stuff. I can't remember. Oh yeah. A fried ball of crabmeat with little fried strings shooting out of it that looked like the flying spaghetti monster. Sazeracs. Cake.

A new dog park opened, so when we woke up early on Sunday morning, we decided to head over there.

I first brought Zuko home a little more than seven years ago because the shelter people told me he gets along with any dog, any time, and I didn't want a dog who would snap back at Daisy. They were right, and it seems this is his essential nature and hasn't changed. He just rambled around at the park and had a great time, not really engaging in serious play with the other dogs, but being unfazed by it all and peeing happily on every fence post he passed. Daisy was nervous, but she didn't snap at anyone and seemed to appreciate the wide open spaces she could retreat to. It was a good time.

Later that morning, we headed down the river for brunch. I got us hopelessly lost and was an asshole about it. But brunch was divine.

"Why don't we eat here all the time?" B. asked. "I was just thinking the same thing," I said. He had some kind of black bean soup with shrimp and bacon, and I had the best food on earth, otherwise known as a bread bowl with shrimp, yellow/red/green bell peppers, and purple onions in some kind of buttery, spicy heavenly sauce and a mimosa.

Then we split eggs over a fried grits cake topped with BBQ shrimp. All of this took place in a little old wooden building that used to be a general store right across from the river. This place is almost too perfect.

After that, we stopped at my parents' house so B. could look through their multiple boxes of crazy travel accessories. On our way out the door, my dad asked him if he had a pedometer. When he said no, my dad shrieked, "YOU CANNOT GO TO EUROPE WITHOUT A PEDOMETER!" and ran back into his study to fetch one. One of my dad's favorite things to do when traveling is to measure and then report how many miles he walked that day.

Early that evening, we met a couple of friends and their dogs back at the dog park. It was way, WAY more crowded this time, and while Zuko continued his easygoing wandering without caring where I was, Daisy was not as relaxed and stuck pretty close to my side. I think it was because she was pretty tired from the outing that morning and kept looking at me wearily while surrounded by fetching, spazzing dogs with an "I am nine, and I have had it" face. If she felt cornered and didn't appreciate it, she definitely let the other dogs know. B. kept reminding me that she picks up on my nervousness, so I tried to keep my distance, but usually I'd just walk away from the scuffle and call her to come with me to a less crowded area of grass, and it would work out okay. I really want to keep taking them, but I do worry about her sometimes. The funniest sight of the evening was seeing four large dogs sniffing the belly of a yorkie who'd rolled over and seemed to be loving the attention -- either that or seeing our friends' floppy, adorably clownish boxer / mastiff mix bound over, come to a face-to-face stand-off with a chihuahua, and lick it delicately on the nose.

The reason behind all of the festivity this weekend = B. is going to France for the summer. I just waved goodbye in the driveway and cried a lot. I am now consoling myself with cold cashew chicken and a Gossip Girl rerun.

I miss him already.

What's so amazing that keeps us stargazing

Not sure where to start, so I'm just going to start typing. It's Memorial Day, and I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about that, but none I can really find words for at the moment. Mostly I'm just thinking about my friend Jessamyn!

I really liked Iron Man. I have always loved Robert Downey, Jr., and he did not disappoint in this role. I definitely recommend it.

I'm not really sure what has been going on. I've been really busy with work. B's mom is here, which has been nice. I sort of went into a manic panic when it came to pre-visit housecleaning, which was silly. We had dinner with my parents the other night, took her to a plantation, took her to a museum, took her to the top of the capitol, had lunch with my parents today, and overall it's been a merry time. Today my mom made three different salads -- her cabbage crunch salad, a green salad with fresh pears and toasted pecans and feta cheese, and a curry chicken salad with dried cranberries ... delish!

I've been reading Linda's journal for a long time ... long enough to know that she is all about the Turbo Jam. I knew it was a tool in her fitness routine, but it wasn't until I saw her legs and passed out from their sheer awesomeness that I got on eBay and bought myself a copy. I did it for the first time this morning when B. went to play racquetball and his mom went for a walk around the lakes. As I told Linda in an e-mail, I am becoming increasingly frightened of my own stomach. It's always been a place where my out-of-shapeness manifests itself ... along with a big bottom that is sort of big no matter how in shape I am ... but my stomach is now doing this weird thing when I bend over where my stomach goes down before the rest of me and is sort of like a distorted, distended other being, like a sandbag attached to my body, and it's so bizarre and so disturbing. While this Turbo Jam video does not specifically address the stomach, I'm hoping that just getting moving again will be an overall good thing for my overall body. I could barely follow the steps and do not understand the different kinds of punches and am wholly baffled by how the teacher's somewhat skimpy orange bikini sports bra holds her boobs in place and I ended up just kind of punching the air randomly to the beat and trying to kick my legs out without putting my foot through the TV or taking out one of the cats. But I think it's okay because I did sweat a lot and get out of breath, which is more than I've done lately, so I hope to get into a little routine and stop scaring myself with the flubberoo.

We watched The Painted Veil last night. I sort of hated the first hour, but by the end I was glad we watched it. I've decided I think Naomi Watts is a very good actress because she just comes across as very natural. Edward Norton, on the other hand -- I've decided that he bugs me. Whereas Naomi Watts seemed to really inhabit her character, every move he made -- every turn of the head, scratch of the neck, hand on the hip -- seemed so calculated and actor-y. It was definitely not an exciting movie, but the scenery was pretty and I ended up being mildly moved by it.

I was much more moved by Secret Lives: Hidden Children & their Rescuers During World War II. I love a good WWII documentary, and this definitely was one. I cried and cried when one man, then a boy, spoke of how when the war ended, freed from his hiding place and his hidden identity, ran out into the streets waving a small Dutch flag and shouting, "I'm a Jew, I'm a Jew." I cried and cried when children grew up and re-met their rescuers -- their parents during those years, really -- half a century later. I was very struck by one woman who was the biological daughter of a rescuer couple who remains angry that her parents risked her life and the lives of her siblings to hide Jewish children. She said she's been angry about it most of her life. And I felt so sad for her and so sorry. And I wonder how all these years later she cannot see the experience with some perspective. That because her parents did what they did, children were saved. And it was dangerous, but nobody died. Not them, not her. So wasn't it ultimately a good thing? I enjoyed this movie very much.

Yesterday we visited a special Jim Henson exhibition. It was just wonderful. If it's coming anywhere near you, I think you should check it out. After coming home still feeling a bit happy/weepy from the exhibit, I went on an all-things Henson YouTube search. I loved watching the singing from his memorial service (part one, part two). And I somehow came across a version I'd never heard before of "The Rainbow Connection," which is one of my favorite songs, even when sung by the likes of Andy Bernard. Anyway, it's by the Dixie Chicks, and here it is, and it made me cry and then cry some more.

Can we talk about plantations for a second? An African American man I rode around with a lot at work last week is probably his mid- to late-60s. He was born on a plantation in St. Fr-ville and picked cotton every summer until he was 19. We were talking about plans with B's mom, and he said we definitely needed to take her to a plantation. He said he loves visiting them, loves walking through the grounds and gardens, even loves seeing the slave cabins. I asked him, not very articulately, if walking around a plantation makes him feel "yucky." (The best word I could come up with. I'm not proud.) He said definitely but he still likes going because he thinks they're beautiful. We had a pretty interesting conversation about it. So when B. and I decided to take his mom to one, I kind of kept him in mind. And sure, the house was beautiful. And hearing about the history from the tour guide was sort of neat. But I about gagged when she said something about how "they're very proud that slaves were not abused at this plantation." Well -- swell. It gave me an overwhelming sense of ickiness.

Here's a picture of the house from the top of the levee:

I can't think of anything else to say about the plantation other than that the best part of the visit was the restaurant's sweet potato fries. And now here are some more pictures of late:

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.

Of late

Of late:

1.) It was five years ago or so when I first became obsessed with the song "Better Things," and I thought I'd since found every cover out there. But I just discovered a new one! It's by the Bouncing Souls. And it is awesome.

2.) I was watching the behind the scenes features of Enchanted, and I learned that some of the older folks dancing in the "That's How You Know" number are old-school Disney movie dancers. They did an interview with one of the guys, and it turns out he was one of the chimney sweepers in Mary Poppins. Then they showed him as the chimney sweeper. And it warmed my heart more than I can even say.

3.) I just finished The Story of Forgetting by Stefan Merrill Block, and it was really good. Here's what it made me think about: memory in general and memories specifically, mothers and children, fathers and children, love and loss, life and death. What I want to look back on my life and remember when it's time for me to die. Heavy stuff, but good stuff. Things that are important to think about. On top of that, it's just a really good story. Impressive & highly recommended.

4.) Stefan Merrill Block is the roommate and best friend of my friend Annegrrl, whom I first met in the summer of 2000 and like to romp around lovingly with when visiting New York. And EXCUSE ME, but they are in today's New York MF-ing Times. I started screaming and jumping around the living room and called her immediately, which might not have been a sane reaction, but I couldn't help it. She seems to be handling this much more calmly than I am. She is too cool for school. Love that girl.

5.) B. and I watched Lars and the Real Girl last night, which I've been waiting and waiting to see. Basically, it confirmed for me that there is nothing Ryan Gosling cannot do. (Read a great review here that really captures the feeling of the film.) Somehow this movie about a real doll ended up a sweet-spirited fable about what it means to be a nice person and help to heal the inner wounds of our fellow human beings, no matter how bizarrely manifested those wounds may be. I'm not sure how this film pulled that off, but it did. I thought it was brilliantly done, and it made me laugh and broke my heart a little bit.

6.) It's a beautiful day. The windows are open. The cats are sitting in the windowsills. I wish I were at Earth Day, but I'm writing a paper. But that's okay. My brother and I are going to see Forgetting Sarah Marshall later, and I can't wait.

Easter feaster

For Easter lunch my mom made crawfish fettucini, dirty rice, cabbage crunch salad, a ham, a turkey, ice cream dessert, rolls, and apple pie. I can't decide if it was over-the-top excessive or just right. I think just right.

On Friday night, B. and I attended a bowling birthday party for a friend. After another 70-hour work week (not complaining; many of my colleagues worked possibly twice that), I was a little delirious and did not get too into the bowling revelry. I contemplated posting a video B. took of me taking a turn but I might be just a little too proud for that as my technique is rather spastic. I saw some school pals there, which was a nice surprise.

Yesterday, we woke up early and went to the farmer's market. We bought grapefruit and cranberry cream scones and brussel sprouts and peanut butter fudge. I tried to nap but it was futile, as usual. I went to my friend M.'s house for a little while to hang out with her and her girls. The Annie soundtrack reigned supreme as usual lately. B. and I got sushi take-out for dinner and watched Michael Clayton, which was better than I thought it would be.

I've been watching a lot of behind the scenes features on the Across the Universe DVD, and the more I delve into this movie, the more I like it.

This morning, I was being lazy and watching The Goonies before we went to lunch. Of course I have seen it one billion times and own it on DVD and loved it so much as a child I used to dream about it, but that doesn't mean I won't stop flipping and watch it if it's on TV. Anyway, I understand that at the beginning all of the kids have their backs turned or are distracted when the Fratelli chase is going on so nobody will believe Chunk at first when he tells them about it. But I don't understand what the giant vat of water is that Martha Plimpton is sticking her head into to cool off. What is that about? It certainly doesn't look very clean. Mystery. Okay -- according to this version of the script: "Stefanie, known to her friends as Stef, is at the docks. The chase passes behind her while her head is immersed in a fishing barrel. She surfaces with a crab in hand and tosses it aside, oblivious to the commotion. " -- but why would she be sticking her head in a fishing barrel? Can someone please explain this to me?

I watched Barack Obama's speech of this week this morning. I had tears streaming down my face for approximately 35 of the 38 minutes. I tried to bring it up at Easter lunch but my mom said even though she heard me and understands that it was a great speech that she does not approve of Obama, basically. I feel like maybe she buys into the idea that he's a great speaker, but so what? I tried to explain that reading his first book really showed me what's behind the great speeches and how much more deeply I understand where he's coming from now. She said a lot of people don't understand why he would stick with that preacher for the past 20 years if he disagreed with him so much. She wasn't saying she thought that; she was saying a lot of people are saying that. I was so out of everything happening in the world because I was working so much that I haven't really heard the reactions. I didn't know what to say, so I just said, "People are complicated." She thinks it's really going to hurt his campaign. My dad said he doesn't think it will have as much of an effect as she does. He thinks Obama will get the nomination. Both said they don't know if he can win. It was kind of baffling. My dad is careful not to say too much, I think, because I think they get that I love him. I guess I just don't understand how my mom of all people doesn't understand why Obama would not want to stick with someone who helped to bring him to his Christian faith and in whose church he was literally converted even though sometimes he says messed up things. I just do not know. It's sort of confusing to me. I love my mom and want to understand where she's coming from.

It makes me sad to think about it, so I think I'm going to eat another piece of peanut butter fudge.

33

I had a nice 33rd birthday. It started with a nice card from B. and some calls from people singing to me. We had cake and ice cream at work, and B. and I went out for Thai food and he gave me some lovely gifts. Then we watched Lost, during which I had to start crying near the end of the episode.

The next night, I gathered with friends and family in the private room of a Thai restaurant for a karaoke birthday party I decided to throw for myself. I am not really sure what came over me or possessed me to do this. I am more and more introverted the older I get, and I don't gather with large groups of friends very often anymore. But I decided to say "what the hell" and go for it. My parents came, as did my brother. Frankly, any party where most or all of my family can't come is not a party of mine I want to have. And lots of friends, some of whom I hadn't seen in a while. I had no idea if anyone would get up and sing, but 99% did. I kicked things off with "I Believe in a Thing Called Love" by The Darkness. My mom's jaw hit the floor because normally I'm quite stage fright-y about such things. My dad sang "By the Time I Get to Phoenix." B. sang "Summer Wind." M. sang "Behind These Hazel Eyes" and some Hall & Oates song. My brother sang some Air Supply song. I mean, the songs just ran the gamut, and people seemed to have a lot of fun singing them. There was lots of merriment all around, and I shocked myself by actually relaxing and enjoying the whole thing after a few hand-wringing moments of needless anxiety. My brother even figured out some way to set up his iPod on some speakers and play a recording of my sister playing and singing a personalized, re-written version of Ingrid Michaelson's "The Way I Am," which warmed my heart to no damn end.

The next night, B. and I sat down with Italian take-out and watched Gone Baby Gone, which I enjoyed very much. It was great to see Michelle Monaghan again, whom I loved so much in Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang.

Yesterday, I did homework and spent a little time at the park with M. and her girls. My godchild is going to walk any day now, I can feel it. She pulled lots of sand determinedly and ferociously into her diaper. And the four-year-old sang "Tomorrow" at the top of her lungs while swinging, which is always a good way to have one's spirit lifted, and we all drank Icees for the second day in a row.

B.'s mom sent me a basket of four beautiful plants for my birthday. I bought some new pots and some potting soil and potted them yesterday. They are really brightening up the house. It had been so long since I put my hands in dirt, and it felt really good. I hope I keep them alive.

I have high hopes for 33.

Update

The first thing I would like to say is that I have finished Rob's book. My friend Rob wrote a really, really good book. In case you've been holding out because you think you've already read his blog and it's just his blog on paper between two covers, you could not be more wrong. I couldn't put it down. Obviously I've been following Schuyler's story since she was in utero in Rob's blog, but the story in the book goes far deeper than that. It's beautiful, and it's just a fine achievement.

All I have to say about the Oscars is that I am sad that Hal Holbrook lost and so thrilled that Once won best song that I basically haven't stopped crying yet.

Their performance:



Their speeches.

(For more on the Oscars, go read Kymm's great-as-ever recap.)

I took charge of two giant and dead bushes, a lantana and a plumbago, in my front yard because the garden experts at the farmer's market told me to. "Just cut them all the way back to the ground!" they said, waving their hands dismissively in the face of my skepticism. "They'll grow back!" So that's what I did. And I scratched my arms up and there's now a giant pile of dead sticks on my curb.

I'd really been missing my friend Grace's semi-regular updates -- luckily she recently posted a link to where she's been writing lately. As usual, I am in love with every word she utters.

This weekend, B. and I went to Sunday brunch in New Orleans, where we hadn't been together since last fall, which is weird and wrong. It was fabulous, and it was great to meet his old friend who was in town for a wedding. We treated ourselves to mimosas and sazeracs and creole eggs benedict and seafood gumbo and really soft bread, and between the food, the drinks, the sunshine, and the jazz trio playing "A Kiss to Build a Dream On," it almost felt for a moment like neither of us is in school or working too many hours or doing anything else but relaxing like we used to spend every weekend blissfully doing.

Meanwhile, I turn 33 in two days, but that's too weird to contemplate this early in the morning.

Misc. stuff

Crazy! That's how life's been lately.

Let me rewind a little bit to earlier this week. On our day off, B. and I decided to go see There Will Be Blood. (Possible spoilers in this paragraph.) I have to say that I rolled right along with it for most of the movie. I found the music highly irritating, but I thought it was a pretty darn good movie. The only other Daniel Day Lewis movies I've ever seen are The Crucible and The Boxer, but they were both so long ago that I have no real memory of them, and so I am not a part of the universal human family who worships at his altar even though I really enjoy his startlingly serious and heartfelt acceptance speeches and obviously think he is a beautiful physical specimen. But I liked him in this part, mostly, and I thought the oil drilling stuff and the small town stuff was really neat, and the kid was adorable, so fine. But by the time it flashed forward, it lost me, and I just wanted everyone to die (except for H.W.) and put themselves and me out of our misery. I also thoroughly misunderstood the preacher character. I thought that Paul and Eli were his split personalities and had no clue they were actually two people. We walked out of the movie theater, and I was like, "Huh?" And B. was like, "Clearly it was an allegory about the defeat of religion by commerce in America." Ooookay. I'm sure he's right, but I really did not need to see that bowling alley scene to teach me that lesson. I am becoming annoyed all over again just thinking of the goddamn straw and milkshake business.

Thankfully, I watched The Jane Austen Book Club a few days later, and it was so sweet and adorable and lovely and I really liked it. I liked every single person in it, and Hugh Dancy is clearly destined to become a Major Movie Star.

Something that makes me happy: The Weepies have a new album coming out on April 22. It is called Hideaway. I cannot wait.

My shopping at the produce market has altered the way I'm trying to eat lately. I'm not trying to diet, but I'm trying to eat so many healthy, natural foods that I don't want to fill up on crap all the time. I still have the occasional cookie at work, but I'm really enjoying the healthier foods right now. I'm also over meat for the time being. I've never been a major meat lover, but I've been eating some tofu and soy crumbles lately and trying to find protein substitutes for meat. I continue to be obsessed with roasting vegetables. This is very dull so I will stop.

Cute.

Based on hearing 2 of their songs, I think I have a new favorite band! The Avett Brothers. "Die, Die, Die" is a song that gets better as it goes along and becomes pretty great by the end. I am intrigued and want to hear more.

One of the better things I've done lately was spend a lunch break pulling over, parking my car, and standing under Japanese magnolia trees and taking pictures of them on a sunny afternoon. They are pretty and pink and smell like heaven.

Stuff & nonsense

In case anyone was wondering, True Believer by Virginia Euwer Wolff was all I hoped it would be and more. It deserved the National Book Award that it won. I cried while finishing it in bed, lying on my side, until there was a pool of tears on my pillow. I mean, I don’t really know what to say other than that. It was beautiful, and I will now wait with bated breath for the final installation of this trilogy that I did not even know was a trilogy until last week. I have to know what happens to LaVaughn and Jolly.

Let’s see … I feel like this was a pretty excellent weekend despite the fact that the sun did not show its face until Sunday afternoon and Friday was one of the foulest days in history, weather-wise. We avoided the cold and rain Friday night by ordering Italian take-out and watching The Lookout, which was pretty good. On Saturday evening, we had dinner with B.’s friend from school and her fiancée. I drank wine and ate veggies with couscous and a giant plate of cheese fries, my first truly decadent gorging in a while. I’ve been pretty much overdosing on fresh fruits and vegetables from the produce market on a daily basis. I’m sure I need more protein but I can’t help it. I just want to eat satsumas and roasted sweet potatoes all day long.

On Sunday, I slept in and eventually got over myself and hit the road to exercise after a weeklong hiatus. It was GREAT. The sun was out. It was cold but not unbearable by any means. It was a wonderful day to cruise around the lakes. The opening piano notes and then the fiddle of the swelling opening notes of the Everwood theme filled my ears as I rounded a corner and was greeted by dozens of big white pelicans and life was beautiful. I even ran an extra five-minute leg at the end when I wasn’t required to. It was Brandi Carlile’s “The Story.” It just made me start running. Have I mentioned that I love her? Because I do. The fact that it’s January is going to mean going to the gym for some of these workouts even though I truly loathe it. But I have to do it. I felt so good when I was done; I have to overcome my laziness and remember that to feel that way again I have to actually do it again.

I read Fallen Angels by Walter Dean Myers. I have to say that I liked Ellen Emerson White’s Echo Company books a lot better (and I’m psyched to be getting the last two through interlibrary loan because not single library in this entire state carries them and they cost $1,000,000 used, practically). I listened to Boy Meets Boy, which is a cute book, but I think I am just fundamentally annoyed by audio books in general and would have enjoyed reading it more on paper. I'm in the middle of Maus II, which is good to kind of an unbelievable degree. Sometimes I have to stop and sit there and blink and just take it in.

Eastern Promises caused me to hide my eyes too many times for me to be able to recommend it.

Don't forget to watch Eli Stone tomorrow night! I guess that's it for now.

Misc. + Oscars

I had not been rollerskating since the 8th grade, so it was not surprising that I was not extremely sure on my feet at a roller skating birthday party Friday night. But I never fell down, I had fun, I did the Hokey Pokey, and that's what it's all about.

I've been enjoying my documentaries lately. The Jewish Americans is really good, and the end of last week's installment made me weep ... when the [graphic video] rabbi talked about how he doesn't want to lay a stone on the heart of his people when they look back on the Holocaust ... how we must "look hard for the sparks of divinity in the ashes of atrocity" ... the way he said it got to me. It was beautiful. This series is allegedly narrated by Liev Schreiber, but to me it sounds nothing like him. Anyway, it's still good. I had no idea that Henry Ford was such a hateful, incurable asshole. And I loved seeing old Mandy Patinkin talking about Irving Berlin. Awesome.

I watched The Fog of War this weekend. I knew nothing of Robert McNamara, which makes me feel like an utter ignoramus. I liked it; it was pretty fascinating.

As for the Oscar nominations, I don't really feel like doing a whole entry about them this year, so I'll just say this. The best nomination on the list is the one for Hal Holbrook. I think Keri Russell should have gotten Ellen Page's place. Is that mean? I like Ellen Page, but I think Keri Russell was better in the indie chick-flick slot. I'm thrilled that "Falling Slowly" from Once was nominated for original song, and the main reason I hope the show actually occurs this year is so I can see Hansard and Irglova perform it live. The rest of it? I don't really care about. I haven't seen any of the nominations for best picture except for Juno. I've seen none of the best actor nominees. I've seen none of the best actress nominees except for Ellen Page (best in the crying alone in the mini-van scene, I think) and Marion Cotillard (good in a pretty good but depressing movie). I've seen none of the supporting actress nominees except for Ruby Dee in American Gangster, and while she was very good in it, her part might have been even smaller than Judi Dench's in Shakespeare in Love, and I find that irritating. The whole thing is irritating because it makes me feel like I saw no movies last year when I totally saw many and loved several. Anyway, it seems very white male-dominated, somehow, the whole thing. And excuse me, but where is Hairspray? WHATEVER.

But go, Hal Holbrook, go! You totally deserve to win.

Weekend update

What is better than a sunny Sunday afternoon? Not much.

It's been a nice weekend. On Friday afternoon after work, B. and I met downtown for sushi at a place we don't go very often. There are always lots of women in Carrie Bradshaw clothes, the music is bumping and loud, and the servers rush you out of there like their hair is on fire. But we were basically the first people there, so we took our time a little bit and enjoyed the terrace view, our wine, our scotch, our shrimp and eggplant miso, our seaweed salad, and our sushi rolls. We got frozen yogurt on the way home and watched Friday Night Lights, which I still love no matter how off the rails it might be going this season.

Yesterday morning, we got up pretty early. I went to the gym and did day two of week two of Couch to 5K and headed to lunch with my girlfriend. We shopped around a little after and exchanged late Christmas gifts. It was nice to see her. Then I went to a gathering of school friends, whom I was glad to see after the holiday break.

Dinner last night was uneventful leftovers, but the entertainment was eventful. It was Stardust, which I knew nothing about other than that Pajiba named it one of the best movies of 2007 we probably didn't see and that my little brother thought it was good. And it was. It was so good! It was just delightful and fun and very pretty to look at. It also did what I previously thought was impossible and that is make me like Claire Danes again. It was a movie miracle! She won me over in her first five minutes. Everyone in the movie was great. Just when I thought the cast could not be improved upon, up showed Ricky Gervais. Just kill me now.

The one thing in the movie that drove me a little nuts was the familiarity of some of the score. I was like, I have heard this before and it is driving me bananas! You can hear the little snippet that made me bonkers here. And I could not figure it out. And finally B. threw out, "Battlestar Galactica?" Whose title sort of sounds like Back to the Future. And I realized, eureka! That was it. (The first 25 seconds or so of that clip.) Anyway, other than that, the movie did not drive me crazy at all except for maybe with happiness.

This morning I went grocery shopping and did day three of week two outside, which was downright blissful because the weather continues to amaze. Then I went to paint some pottery with my favorite four-year-old, who announced as she madly splashed her ceramic plate with color, "I CAN'T STOP PAINTING." This is my last non-school weekend for a while, so I'm glad it's been so lovely.

Here are my playlists for week two, days two and three:

Piddle, Twiddle And Resolve/Till Then ~ 1776
Blame Canada ~ South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut
Pavement Artist (Chim Chim Cher-Ee) ~ Mary Poppins
What Would Brian Boitano Do? ~ South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut
We're Not Sorry ~ Urinetown
Broken Heart ~ Motion City Soundtrack
Closer To You ~ Brandi Carlile
All I Want Is You ~ Barry Louis Polisar
The Story ~ Brandi Carlile
Who's Got a Match? ~ Biffy Clyro
Eyes ~ Rogue Wave
Shake It ~ Metro Station
Follow Your Heart ~ Urinetown (mainly for the part at the end when Hunter Foster knocks "laughter and glaaaaadness" out of the park)
School for Monsters/The Money Song ~ Avenue Q

Dear Prudence ~ Across the Universe
Run, Freedom, Run! ~ Hunter Foster (Urinetown)
So Nice So Smart ~ Kimya Dawson
All My Loving ~ Jim Sturgess (Across the Universe)
I've Got the World on a String ~ Michael Buble
Singin' In The Rain ~ Gene Kelly
When Your Mind's Made Up ~ Glen Hansard & Markéta Irglová (Once)
The Nicest Kids In Town ~ James Marsden (Hairspray)
Busted Afternoon ~ Old 97's
Kind Of Hope ~ Pilot Speed
Happiness Is a Warm Gun ~ Joe Anderson (Across the Universe)
You Can't Stop The Beat ~ Hairspray
Everything ~ Michael Buble
I Will ~ The Beatles
The Story ~ Brandi Carlile

Day three

It's 6:59 in the morning. I managed to get out of bed, but I have now relocated to the couch and am having trouble forcing myself off of it. 25 degrees is too cold to face. I am pretending I don't have to be at work in an hour.

So, it's the beginning of the third day of the new year. 2008 was rung in quietly but happily. A matinee of Juno with Skittles and popcorn, then an afternoon of crock pot cooking and No Man's Land (excellent, thanks, Kymm) and Superbad (dumb but funny) and a bottle of red wine. I was asleep when the clock struck twelve, but I'm fine with that.

On New Year's Day, we watched yet another movie, The Bourne Ultimatum, and I jotted it down, hoping to actually stick to keeping my movie and book lists for 2008.

Last night in the tub, I finished What Gets Into Us by Moira Crone, which was very good, and then I tackled How Sassy Changed My Life. It really took me back to the days of Sassy. I have very vivid memories of lying around on my friend's bed reading it. I think she was the one who first discovered it; I'm not sure how. But I know we loved it from the start, and it meant so much to us. Reading this book was a nice way of learning that it meant the same thing to lots of other people. I also remember quite clearly getting the issue run by the new staff and being like, "What are you and what have you done to my Sassy?" It was kind of crushing, like the end of an era. This book was also enlightening relative to the boycott of the magazine and how it tied its hands when it came to sexual topics. I had no idea that ever happened. I was just happily reading it in my friend's bedroom and spinning my little REM record that came in one issue. I wonder if I still have that record somewhere? That I still have so many issues is one positive aspect of being a lifelong packrat. I don't see ever parting with them, honestly.

I am vowing to embrace the joys of this new year and focus less on the bummers. I really want to stop waking up in the middle of the night and using that time to fret, fret, fret the dark hours away. I want to be healthy and kind and energetic and creative and loving and have plenty of fun.

I guess I need to face the music and get up off the couch. I'll end this with a few pictures -- flowers by me, dogs by B.

You call, you call, and I'll come running

I have been waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting for Once. It is an odd feeling, loving something so much that so many people you love have never experienced. My sister & her Irishman saw it (and sent me the soundtrack without even knowing I wanted it, in a moment of destiny), and of course B. and I saw it. But not my brothers, and none of my friends. I feel like I have been talking about it since the afternoon we walked out of the theater. The other night over Vietnamese food with my classmates I announced that the best movie of 2007 was coming out on DVD the next day and they all needed to give it to themselves for Christmas. They looked at me. "What? Once?" They resumed slurping their pho. I made a copy of the CD for my co-worker who loves music and good movies. I basically forced it upon him. I have been forcing this movie and this music on everyone, but no one has been able to see it, because it's tiny and hasn't been out everywhere like God knows it should be. Sometimes I wonder if I am overhyping it, but then I remember that's not possible.

But now it's out, and everyone can see it, and everyone should. Tonight I brought it over to my little brother's house. We ate pizza and watched it. He laughed out loud. I cried out loud.

(Spoiler) I love how the reaction of the guy in the studio beautifully mirrors the reaction of the audience. That moment of realizing that you are watching and hearing something amazing. (End of spoiler.)

He asked me as they sang "When Your Mind's Made Up" in the studio if all the songs were on the soundtrack, and I said yes. When the movie ended, I said, "God, don't you just wish we had the soundtrack to listen to right now?" He said, "YES." I pulled it, gift-wrapped, out of my purse, and said, "Happy Birthday!"

He laughed some more. He hugged me when I left and said, "I loved the movie, Eliza. It made me really happy."

Monday

My sister brought me some amazing handmade gifts from Bolivia - a dress, a skirt, a purse, and a wall hanging with little pockets. I love them! Before wearing the clothes, however, I will need to invest in some spanx.

We spent a little time driving around on Saturday listening to Mary Chapin Carpenter. My sister said that every song brings her right back to specific time and place in her life. I agreed. One reminds her of being in her friend's car learning to drive a stick shift. One reminds me of sitting at a red light thinking about forgiveness. The entire album we were listening to reminds us of the summer of 2004 because we both had it on our iPods when we were in Europe. There are a few artists like that, I guess, for everyone. Those whose work has followed you for years through the entire human emotional spectrum. Adventure, romance, heartache, healing. I said, "Mary Chapin Carpenter is important." She said, "She really is so, so important." Then we just went ahead and agreed that Mary Chapin Carpenter is one of the most important people who has ever lived.

I've been coming around to the idea of thinking maybe I should start running again. Not following any program or time requirements or mileage requirements. Just doing it a little at a time if only to be able to fit into my winter pants and feel like a worthwhile person again. Is it insane to tie in one's sense of self worth to whether or not one commits herself to exercising? Because I totally do.

What else? Waitress really holds up upon third viewing. Once will be out on DVD before we know it. My little brother, of all people -- OF ALL PEOPLE -- has never seen it or even heard of it. I told him, "I don't mean to go overboard and say it will make your life complete or anything, but it totally will." School remains a mystery. I like the people I've met (most of them), though, and I'll miss having classes with them next semester. I am really enjoying the Across the Universe soundtrack these days and some old, live Ray LaMontagne. I'm excited to see Juno and The Golden Compass. In completing my unplanned but somehow neverending theme of war film and literature this year, I just finished The Things They Carried, which was beautiful. I'd like to close out the year with a really excellent book or two, but I can't decide what to read next.

And now, random pictures from the past few weeks.

Misc.

American Gangster: long, languid, dull-ish, but sort of interesting as far as the story. Denzel Washington=completely impressive. The Departed: ten times more entertaining on every level.

Enchanted: Unsurprisingly delightful. I've talked before about how fantastic I think Amy Adams is, and she proved it again here. Just a peachy keen holiday movie good time.

Football games: Fun when you're with your brother and your mom even when it's really, really cold and your team loses in triple overtime and squanders its shot at the national championship.

Sushi: Delicious. Consumed with B. and his school friends tonight as they talked about things I did not remotely understand. Though my crunchy roll was a bit puny.

Weird: Not having Thanksgiving in N.O. for the first time in my life that I can remember and my sister being in South America instead of with us. The Katrina-flooded convent where we've always had it is still not fixed. The house we went to last year in lieu of the convent is no longer available due to family strife. (Not our family, but our dear family friend who is like family's family.) I called my aunt early Thursday morning to tell her it was Bizarro Thanksgiving and had to fight back the tears. Embarrassing, sort of. So we just had it at our house! Very small and quiet but enjoyable and with tons of my mom's excellent cooking. Baked turkey, fried turkey, rice dressing, cornbread dressing, broccoli casserole, rolls, cabbage crunch salad, ice cream dessert, cookies. My dad read aloud an e-mail from my sister, and we all laughed and cried. (Well, I cried.)

The weather the entire weekend: Vile beyond belief.

Group projects at school: Utterly sucktastic in every way. Not the people, just the organization and the experience and the ridiculousness of trying to pull it all together this late in the game. UGH!!! Don't even get me started; it is making me unreasonably upset and crazy.

I don't know what else to say. Except that my sister will be here Saturday, which is not soon enough for me.

Movies, thanks, etc.

Here's what I really wanted to be good: August Rush. Here's how good it was: not very. It was great to get the afternoon off and head to the movies with my little brother and eat Milk Duds (sort of good, sort of gross, as usual) and drink a frozen coke, but the movie was not so great. Keri Russell was luminous and radiant and gorgeous and wonderful as usual, and everyone else was good. Except for Robin Williams, who was awful. AWFUL. His performance: awful. His character: awful. The whole storyline involving him: awful.

With a bag of white chocolate peppermint Hershey's Kisses in hand, clearly there is only one thing to do tonight. And that is watch Hairspray. So I'm starting it, right, and the world's longest trailer is showing for The Golden Compass. I swear it's been on for like fifteen minutes now. And don't get me wrong -- it looks fabulous. And WOW, is Daniel Craig a perfect Lord Asrael or what? But it is also showing the entire movie. Perhaps they accidentally put an advance screener in the DVD case instead of Hairspray? I'm not sure. But I'm getting pretty fired up. I have very poor retention of books I haven't read a million times, even if I loved them, so I can't comment on whether this movie is faithful to the book that I loved with my whole heart. But holy mackerel, it sure looks awesome. (P.S. My mom's been getting lots of e-mails from religious groups saying that this movie is horrible and anti-God. She asked me if the book is anti-God, and I just said, "Um .... I don't really remember. Mostly it's just about a girl and a polar bear.")

I'm not sure how to explain the His Dark Materials trilogy to her when I don't completely understand it myself. Especially book three. And I'm sort of sad that there is religious objection to the movie, though I guess it doesn't surprise me. BUT, I can't imagine an anti-God movie being made that's being marketed to children at Christmas? Really? I just highly doubt that. I doubt that the film is remotely anti-God. I guess I'll just have to see it and see. It's mighty beautiful to look at according to this hour-long trailer I'm watching, that's for sure.

And now a Weepies song is playing in a JC Penney's commercial! ("All that I Want.") What the heck? Did they say, "Advertising agency music people: come and listen to our songs and put them in Christmas ads!" It is very mystifying.

B. is studying tonight. I am thankful that three Thanksgivings ago we had not met except over e-mail and that three turkeys later we are still together.

I am thankful for my brothers, both of whom I saw today, and for my sister, who'll be home soon, and for my parents, who are the two nicest people on earth. I'm thankful for my friends, near and far. I'm thankful for my animals and for my job and even school, which has driven me somewhat out of my gourd this semester. I'm thankful for the amazing little girls in my life whom I love like they are my own blood nieces. I am thankful for wonderful books (like The Incredibly True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie in case I haven't mentioned it which I know that I have because it is WONDERFUL) and wonderful movies and Mindy Kaling's blog.

I am lucky.

Things

1.) I can't decide if I liked The United States of Leland or not. Parts were really good; parts felt tacked-on and pointless. Good: Gosling, Cheadle. The rest: sort of unnecessary? Charlotte's Web ended up being really good and made me cry so hard at the end that Daisy became flustered and squealy and pawed me and pawed me in concern. And Miss Potter was a sweet and lovely if someone boring in parts little movie. My favorite part was when Ewan McGregor sang, no shock there.

2.) I just heard "Stars," one of my favorite songs by The Weepies or anyone, on an Old Navy commercial. I am not sure how I feel about this.

3.) I am positive about this: The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie is a wonderful, wonderful, wonderful book. I just finished it and want to turn back to page one and start over. It made me laugh out loud and also hurt and filled my heart. The cartoons are brilliant. LOVED IT. If you need a book to give someone for Christmas, you should probably go ahead and give this one. Or The Book Thief. But The Book Thief is so devastatingly beautiful that I don't think you can give it to the faint of heart. My heart is still in pieces after reading that book, but in the best possible way.

4.) I am suddenly now seeing my sister on December 1 instead of several weeks later as originally planned and am close to freaking out about it. I already bought two six-packs of Christmas Reese's trees for us to break open in celebration in the airport parking lot.

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.)

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.

And the Oscar goes to Hal Holbrook

Life has been going on.

I re-read Tiger Eyes (again). I read The Palace Thief, which had four really good and also really depressing stories in it. I was supposed to be studying at the library last night, but instead I wandered to a room full of children’s and young adult literature and scanned the shelves of my favorite writers. I came to Jean Little and let out a little squawk when I saw the spine of a book named Kate. Kate? KATE? Kate has her own book? I could not believe it. It is a sequel to my beloved Look Through My Window. I promptly e-mailed Lisa to inform her of this discovery. So instead of studying last night, I read the first half of the book. And it is so wonderful to be with Kate and Emily and Jean, James, John, and Anne again, only from Kate’s perspective this time instead of Emily’s. And I just finished The Road Home, which I liked very much. I’m not sure how I called myself an Ellen Emerson White fan for twenty years or so without ever reading this book. I thought a little about the character of Max in Across the Universe when I was reading it. And about China Beach. I guess I am lucky that all I know of war is what I see on TV or movies or read in books.

I saw not all but most of The War on PBS.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the latest Andy Samberg video. It’s one thing to make fun of GWB. But this very scary guy is basically our enemy at this point and we might end up going to war with him. Maybe it’s because I can’t stop thinking about The War, but it just seemed like a very modern and patriotic thing to do – to be able to be so crass and rude to this dictator and we have the freedoms that allow us to do that. I think I have dictators on the brain.

The War was harrowing and heartbreaking and sometimes very gross. But I think it was pretty great. I didn’t catch every night of it, but what I did see was good. Tom Hanks narrated newspaper articles written by a Minnesota reporter named Al McIntosh. I don’t know if it’s that the writings were really good or Tom Hanks just did a great job reading them, but every time he started talking, I immediately started boo-hooing. It reminded me of that part of Field of Dreams when Terrence Mann goes to hear about Doc Graham and the old newspaper lady reads his obituary and it turns out that she wrote it … Tom Hanks read that kind of writing by this Al McIntosh guy and it was just too much for me. It was kind of an overall weepfest, especially when old grandpas’ voices started quivering when they were talking about their experiences. A little American girl & her family were held among American and British “POWs” (they weren’t actually POWs, they were just normal people who were living in the Philippines when it got taken over by the Japanese) for several years in a shanty-town sort of POW camp there, and parts of her diary were read by a little girl narrator … I never knew about that … it just shows how widespread and truly world-wrecking the war was. It’s all very upsetting. It’s hard to explain. It blows my mind how many hundreds of thousands/millions of civilians got bombed to smithereens by the Allies both in Europe & the Pacific (not even counting Hiroshima & Nagasaki) and we were supposed to be “the good guys.” It’s a little much to take. I started thinking about The Book Thief. It was kind of a masterpiece, though, I think, and a staggering achievement. But I’m glad it’s over, because my eyes were starting to get bloodshot. I also think I need to start watching more sitcoms.

You can listen here to Tom Hanks as Al McIntosh. I still think about the people interviewed. Every time Sam Hynes would open his mouth, I would think, that is the most articulate man I have ever heard speak. I told B. that he talks like a writer. Well, duh. Turns out he’s not only a writer but professor of literature emeritus at Princeton. And because I am a total ignoramus and had no idea who he was, after watching him speak and share his experience night after night after night and being totally charmed by him, when the narrator said that Daniel Inouye got his Medal of Honor fifty years later as a sixth-term United States Senator, I burst into tears. I burst into tears throughout the entire thing.

Not to mention when Norah Jones sang as the credits rolled.

It’s been a while since I started this entry. I finished Kate, and I am with Lisa – it’s no Look Through My Window. Now I’m re-reading The Pigman, just because.

I went to see Into the Wild this weekend. I’ve never read the book, but my sister has, and I remember that she was very affected by it and she told me a lot about it. I don’t feel like I can really make a judgment about the guy; I didn’t know him and I don’t know why he did what he did or if he was just on a suicide mission or what. I don’t feel like it’s my place to decide whether the way he lived and died was right or wrong. All I can say is that it was a powerful and ultimately devastating film, and I’m glad I saw it. If Hal Holbrook does not win the Oscar for best supporting actor, I’ll think there is something very wrong in the world. A lot of things in this film moved me – the landscapes, the amazing nature photography, Emile Hirsch’s performance overall, Catherine Keener – but Hal Holbrook is who made me cry and cry and cry, and I was just blown away by him. HAL HOLBROOK, I LOVE YOU.

Like a restless wind inside a letter box

I'm supposed to be working on a power point presentation but all I really want to do is think about Across the Universe.

I didn't know much about this movie going into it except that it stars Evan Rachel Wood (brilliant on Once and Again; recently frightening me in her bloody rain sex videos with Marilyn Manson) and was directed by Julie Taymor (whose movies I've never seen but whose creation of The Lion King on Broadway earned her my eternal respect and admiration). I knew there was some kind of snafu behind the scenes between Taymor and the studio on who should have final cut and that the studio did not care for Taymor's version, which is the one that was ultimately released. That's all I really knew.

I know enough about Taymor's artistic sensibilities and had seen enough trailer footage to know that this movie would be pretty out there at times. And it totally is. There are parts that felt clunky and out of place (Detroit) and parts that were so bizarre that I almost started laughing, but that doesn't change the fact that I was filled with a kind of euphoric joy every time the actors opened their mouths and started singing. I've never owned a Beatles album unless you count the soundtrack to I Am Sam, which is covers, so it really doesn't count. I know the number of Beatles songs that the average person knows, I guess. There were lots of songs in this movie that I'd never heard before and lots of Beatles references I only understood when B. explained them to me later. So I can't really speak as a Beatles expert. But I loved the music in this movie, every last note of it. I think Evan Rachel Wood has a good voice even though sometimes she sounds like she has a cold; I think she is a better actor than singer. But the rest of the main characters? Particularly the guys who played Jude and Max? I loved their voices a lot. Especially that of Jim Sturgess, who plays Jude. It's extremely reminiscent of Ewan McGregor's, which is one hundred percent alright with me. It struck me in the opening scene, the similarity of their voices, maybe because the opening scene reminded me a lot of "Nature Boy" in the beginning of Moulin Rouge. (You can see what I'm talking about here.) In fact, there were lots of things in this movie that reminded me of other movies. The entire "I've Just Seen a Face" number in the bowling alley, I'd like to think, was an homage to "Score Tonight" in Grease 2. (Okay, it probably was no such thing, but it still made me happy to think so.) This kid was so fantastic I still kind of can't believe it. They were all really, really good.

There are parts of this movie that are eyeroll-worthy and parts that just don't work. I could have done without the Eddie Izzard and Bono scenes, my affection for them notwithstanding. What made it work for me, ultimately, is mainly the dreaminess, charm, and totally game performances of the leads. No matter how crazy and bizarro the scene, they totally threw themselves into it and went for it. As a viewer, I appreciate that. It was too long and was really heavy-handed at times, but some of the artistic weirdness was totally cool and sort of brilliant, and some parts were just heartbreakingly effective. The "Hey Jude" scene, for example, really got to me. As did "All You Need Is Love."

Maybe what it boils down to is that I am rendered incapable of making any kind of critical analysis of a movie in which the characters burst into song. No matter how much I might not have liked some parts, the parts I liked, I loved, and they, along with the excellent soundtrack, are what I'll remember about this movie.

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.

Not Laboring on Labor Day

Right now I'm sitting at the coffee shop with Herpreet. She's working on her laptop, and I'm working on mine. I'm not sure what she's listening to. I'm listening to Grease 2. It's not a bad way to spend part of a Labor Day afternoon.

My boyfriend is a deep thinker and has been having especially deep thoughts lately in the wake of his plunge into academia. Last week, I was only sort of awake when he started to intelligently explain Barack Obama's appearance on The Daily Show, and I actually interrupted him to say, "Yeah, that's sort of like Danny Tidwell on So You Think You Can Dance." Showing how nice he is, he nodded as if that were a totally apt and legit comparison.

I've found myself more than once recently talking about Wil Wheaton. "Well, Wil Wheaton says..." and he finally asked me, "Who is Wil Wheaton?" And I walked into my bedroom and walked out with the framed showcard I bought off of eBay with a framed picture. It's a piece of one of those big cardboard displays in the movie theater, the image of John Cusack and Wil Wheaton sitting on a bed in one of the flashbacks in Stand By Me. I pointed to him, "That's Wil Wheaton. Now he has a blog." And I really do enjoy it. It's weird sometimes to realize that the little boy who played Gordie LaChance, one of the characters that pretty much consumed my entire psyche throughout the entirety of sixth grade and who grew up to be a writer, is now a grown man and a writer. But he's a good writer and seems like a genuinely nice person, and there's something that feels right to me, in a corny way, about that.

Speaking of blogs, there have been two blogs I've been keeping up with this year that have moved me down to the depths of my being. This one chronicles a family's battle with lymphoma. Even though I don't know these people at all, I followed it so closely, hoping and praying for a good outcome and healing beyond the heartbreak they suffered. To read about them coming back into the light has been nothing short of inspiring. The writing on this site is some of the best I've ever encountered on the web. This one also has incredibly beautiful writing and tells the story of the birth of two babies and the survival of only one. It is hard to know how to describe these blogs because they involve struggles and heartbreaks of a degree I've never experienced and can't even imagine and I don't want to come off like a dork talking about how beautiful they are and how much they've moved me. I just am grateful to have been able to read them, really, and to have witnessed from a million miles away the beauty and the strength they have been able to express. I don't even know.

I watched The Pianist recently for the first time. It certainly was harrowing. Worth watching for this scene alone. {Warning: Huge spoiler in that link.}

Meanwhile, I have finally started The Road. I haven't gotten far, but I know I want to keep going. I just finished Daniel Isn't Talking by Marti Leimbach, which I thought was pretty excellent.

This week I've been spending a lot of time with my sister, which has been great. She came to exercise class with me and marveled at my ability to roll around in other people's sweat. She was proud of me. "It's definitely good germophobic therapy," I said. Class continues to be hard but fun. Sometimes I'm so tired during the cooldown that I almost fall over during the stretches. The other night a panting man saw me about to keel over and then right myself and he nodded in agreement. "Talk about spent," he said. I nodded back. Spent indeed. My sister and I went to Piccadilly for lunch, site of many childhood family meals. I ordered a side of orange macaroni and cheese and a side of orange baby carrots for my lunch and decided to drink some orange Fanta with my meal. The three went well together. It is impossible to quantify how much Piccadilly macaroni and cheese we consumed as kids. Back when they had the really delicious red punch, not the Hi-C fruit punch. Good times.

We had a party with all of her lifelong friends the other night before sending her off to South America, and we ate jambalaya and shrimp and brownies and it felt good to be in my parents' house with all of those old friends and their babies. So many babies! Wow.

Yesterday my boyfriend and I went to New Orleans together for the first time since he's moved here. We ate at our favorite brunch place -- he got debris and poached eggs and I got a bacon, arugula, tomato, and egg sandwich on focaccia. Later, we stopped for gelato (strawberry and chocolate hazelnut). Because it's so long, we've been watching The Lives of Others in installments. I thought the first 15 minutes or so were sort of boring, but now I'm hooked.

What else? I'm liking my classes so far. The material is alternatingly mindnumblingly boring and very interesting. I guess all of grad school might like that, no matter what you're studying.

Jessamyn and Grace have been schooling me a little bit on the ways of the Canon Digital Rebel. I borrowed B.'s and tried to do a little shooting with it. My main goal was to be able to shoot at my sister's party indoors without using the pop-up flash that comes with the camera. It was not a completely successful mission, but I learned a bit about apertures, shutter speed, and ISO and just knowing a little tiny bit makes me want to know a lot more. Mostly I just want to be as good a photographer as those two ladies even though that will likely not happen in this lifetime. Here are a few shots that I like even though they're nothing sensationally arty.

Needles & Nicola

I’m getting a little sick of the needles, to tell you the truth. One arm got stuck with a tetanus shot and one with a meningitis vaccine, and OW. They both hurt like they were hit with a billy club. I can barely lift either of them. I think it’s getting a little better, but I am a side sleeper, and I haven’t been able to sleep on my side for the past two nights, and that makes me unhappy indeed. And this morning I got a TB skin test, which wasn’t too bad but also not what I’d call a delight.

I reread I Capture the Castle recently, and it was as wonderful as ever. I lifted my boycott of the movie and actually bought it since neither Netflix nor my local video store carries it. I was really skeptical of Romola Garai as Cassandra after realizing she was the lead in Dirty Dancing 2: Havana Nights, but then I found out that she played the friend in Vanity Fair and I remembered liking that performance, so I gave it a go. I was really interested in seeing Bill Nighy as Mortmain, and that was what cinched the deal when it came to my viewing of the movie. Here are some random thoughts: Marc Blucas has no charisma. He never has, and I doubt he ever will. I could not stand him on Buffy, and he was certainly not as dashing and semi-devilish as I always pictured Neil to be. But he was okay. Not terrible. Handsome, but blandly. Not exactly a nuanced performance. As for Henry Thomas as Simon – in the book it’s pointed out that since Neil is from California and Simon is from the East Coast, they speak differently – and Henry Thomas does definitely sort of speak in a very refined and proper way. It’s kind of annoying, I have to say. I really, REALLY loved him in Legends of the Fall (it’s true) and God knows he was a genius in ET – seriously (watch his ET audition here – it’s sort of devastating) – but he did not do a whole lot for me as Simon. I remember being confused in the book as to why Rose and Cassandra were so horrified by his beard – I always thought, what is the big deal about having a beard? But in the movie, it is clear why they were horrified. As I told mo pie already, it is a heinous, hideous goatee. Maybe it turns out that I just kind of hate the character of Simon and think he is unworthy of either Cassandra or Rose. Topaz was not like I pictured her, but the actress was good so I got over it. Rose Byrne was actually excellent as Rose and cried and emoted very well, but I was pretty distracted by her wig. Cassandra was very well played by Garai. Bill Nighy as Mortmain – well. I’m just not sure. I guess I liked him. I think Stephen is supposed to be blond. The book says that he sometimes has a daft look about him, so I pictured him sort of as a Chris Klein type. He’s got brown hair in the movie, and the actor playing him does a nice job.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about the movie. So I sat down to watch the commentary, and that made me like it more. It made it clear that the film was very lovingly adapted, cast, and made by people who were definitely aware of the magic of the book and how deeply it is loved. So – I am going to give it a thumbs up. No movie based on this book could ever truly do it justice, but this one is a respectable effort. The castle and the scenery alone make it worth watching, I think.

Meanwhile, The Best of Youth is a good six-hour Italian movie if ever there was one, but my boyfriend’s hard drive died while we were watching it on an airplane so part of me will never forgive Matteo and Nicola for that. The computer place said his data=irretrievable so they replaced the hard drive. We still might try Drivesavers or something per Amanda Page’s suggestion because I refuse to give up hope yet. Meanwhile, he can’t get his iPod to sync up or whatever you call it now that the new hard drive is in. His iBook is from 2005 (or something) and the newer versions of iTunes are screwing it up. Like, his relatively new shuffle needs one of the newer versions of iTunes, but only older versions are simpatico with his operating system? I feel like I am speaking a foreign language so I might not be using the right words. I am not exactly sure what the problem is. Has anyone ever dealt with this before?

Meanwhile, my new favorite bookcase:

The world keeps spinning

Oh my God. Hairspray.

Background: I've never seen the Jon Waters film. The Broadway musical never interested me much. Today, I was bored and felt like being somewhere dark and cool after sweating my brains out mowing my backyard. So I called up my friend K., and we decided to go to see Hairspray. I knew nothing about it and don't even know what possessed me to suddenly want to see it. Mostly I just like Amanda Bynes, of all people, and liked the idea of seeing her in a musical. So we went. I got an Orange Fanta, and we split a small popcorn and a bag of Reese's Pieces and we settled in for the movie.

And oh my sweet Lord, it was so good. I don't even know what to say. I am speechless. From beginning to end, we smiled until our cheeks hurt, we laughed and hooted and clapped and even shook our tushes in our seats. And I have no rhythm. But I felt like I did as I sat there and danced along. It was impossible not to. The movie had such amazing energy. I'm pretty much over John Travolta and find him irritating as himself and wasn't sure how I would handle him in this part, but it turns out that it's a sweet and funny performance with a lot of heart to it. Nikki Blonsky as Tracy was fabulous -- a great dancer and singer alike and I rooted for her from the first second she appeared on screen. Michelle Pfeiffer (too thin, I'm afraid) oozed meanness and showed off her still Stephanie Zinone-ish pipes. Amanda Bynes was hilarious. Zac Ephron was beyond adorable. Christopher Walken was Christopher Walken and every moment I waited for him to burst into song and dance was worth the wait when he finally did. Queen Latifah was great. Elijah Kelley made my friend and me turn to each other the minute he opened his mouth to sing and started dancing and say, "WOW." He was SO good. I predict that he will be a huge star. Alison Janney = so funny. James Marsden was perfect as Corny Collins. I really do not think there was a weak link in the entire cast. They were all fantastic.

At one point after I caught my breath from laughing I composed myself and said to my friend, "Why is this movie so awesome?" She said, "I DON'T KNOW." I said, "I think this is the best movie I've ever seen!" She said, "I KNOW."

We stopped at two stores on the way home to buy the soundtrack; it was sold out. I went to my parents' house to continue my VHS-DVD home movie project, but they were napping and I thought it would be best to wait and not disturb them. So I headed to yet another store and bought the soundtrack there. I saw K. in the parking lot; she showed up to buy it, too. I listened to "You Can't Stop the Beat" on the way home and could barely concentrate on the road, so exciting was it. That song, well. I don't even know. It's almost enough to make me want to start running again just so I can listen to it while doing so.

Hairspray was a thoroughly, one hundred percent, over the moon, utterly joyous movie musical experience.

Pie song

"Baby, Don't You Cry (The Pie Song)," written by Andrew Hollander and Adrienne Shelly and performed by Quincy Coleman, is now available on iTunes.

Return with Honor

I finished Return with Honor, a documentary about prisoners of war in North Vietnam from the mid-1960s through the early 1970s who were held in what's known as the Hanoi Hilton.

This was a story I knew nothing about, and it was a fascinating film. The men told their own stories; it was basically an oral history. But what made this movie unique, at least out of the war documentaries I've been watching lately, is that the filmmakers were granted access to archival footage taken by the North Vietnamese of the prisoners during their captivity. So these men, twenty-five years later (the film was made in 1998, and most were released in 1973), were talking about what happened to them there, and then old footage of the men would be shown. For example, the North Vietnamese government denied that the men were being tortured, and one of the men explained how he was filmed and knew it would be broadcast, so he blinked the letters "t-o-r-t-u-r-e" with his eyes in Morse Code to convey that message to the folks watching at home. And there was actual footage of when he did that, standing there, looking a little freaked, and blinking his eyes. And there was instance after instance of that, and it was amazing to see what the men looked like back then and then see them telling about it all those years later.

One of the most touching moments of the film, which made me cry throughout, are you kidding me, was a very frail and wounded man lying on a gurney saying in a very weak and shaky voice, "I would just like to tell my wife that I will get well, that I love her, and I hope to see her soon. And I'd appreciate it if you told her that." And I squinted at the screen and realized that it was John McCain.

The men used a tapping code to communicate with each other because for the majority of the years they were in captivity, they were very isolated. So they would tap on the walls and get to know everything that could possibly be known about each other across concrete walls, sometimes never having met or laid eyes on the person they shared their most intimate contact with. They would exercise in their cells, they would design houses in their minds, they would compose poetry ... they would do anything they could to keep their minds active so they wouldn't go nuts. Many of them attempted suicide. Some were offered the opportunity of early release, and they turned it down, because that would be breaking the code. It wouldn't be fair, and it might be harmful in some way to those left behind. John McCain was one of those. I don't really know much about John McCain's politics, but seeing him as one of these guys -- I'll tell you. It makes me want to shake the dude's hand.

The prison was built by the French to torture the Vietnamese, and the Vietnamese used the techniques they learned from the West to torture the Americans, largely airmen who were shot down and captured. War begetting war, cruelty begetting cruelty, and so it goes. One of the men drew pictures in his mind of the torture techniques with the plan of drawing them on paper one day, and he did, within a month of his return home. The film showed his drawings, and they were awful. They were tied up in ropes and their joints were dislocated. One of the men cried when remembering how the worst part of it for him was spending every night lying on his concrete slab hearing the screams of his fellow airmen being tortured and knowing he couldn't do anything to help them.

During one interrogation, a propaganda minister told one of the POWs that the war would be ended in the streets of America and that the POWs were part of that plan -- they were used as pawns to incite American protest against the war. And the airman was told that America could never win a war like that war, between two groups of the same country, and that once America finally understood that, it would all be over.

The stories they told were unbelievable. The dignity they exhibited when telling the stories was even more so. That sounds so trite, but it's true. They spent 5, 6, 7, 8 years of their lives imprisoned under horrific circumstances, and they seem to believe that what they went through was better than being killed in action, and they recognize that the welcome they received upon returning home and their treatment as heroes was so different from the way most of the other veterans were treated, and they acknowledge that it wasn't fair. They think everyone who fought in the war should have been welcomed home like they were.

And the cynical side of me wants to say that this is all formulaic bull, but when you see the men in their 50s with tears in their eyes and catches in their throats talking about what it was like and then you see footage of them in their 20s actually there, in handcuffs, with sunken cheeks and hollow eyes and pale skin that only got to go outside for 15 minutes a day, and you see the moment they are transferred from North Vietnamese to American custody and they are doing their best to salute their officers and to be brave, and you see their wives and children running to them across the tarmac and hear their voices shaking when a microphone is put before them upon their return and they say in a quivering voice, "God bless America," well, it all seems very real and true.

After I finished the movie earlier tonight, I went to the grocery store. And as I waited in line, I picked up a People magazine with a big spread about Paris Hilton and her "life behind bars." I have never been able to muster much of an opinion about Paris Hilton. The most I can do in her general direction is flare my nostrils and shrug. I've never understood all of the hoopla around her and I've never gotten worked up about her in any regard. But as I flipped through this article about her, this article about Paris Hilton, after having just watched a movie about men who spent 8 years of their lives being tortured as prisoners of war in the Hanoi Hilton, I suddenly developed a very strong opinion about Paris. And that is mainly that she should shut the fuck up, and that for her to paint herself -- or for the media to paint her -- as some kind of traumatized victim is so disgraceful that it makes me want to vomit.

In conclusion, I'm very glad that I watched this film the week of the 4th of July. And I hope that kids are being taught about this in history classes today, because I never was. And if you are at all interested in history and the suffering and the experiences that go on in war on all sides, this film is most definitely worth watching. (If you don't believe me, Anne Lamott also thinks so. And she is always, always right.)

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.

Ice cream cake is important.

First things first: big shout out to reader Jana who has finally solved the mystery of those damn five notes from the Planet Earth theme that have been driving me insane as to where I've heard them before. They are from the theme to Somewhere in Time! If you listen to this, you can hear the five notes from about 3 seconds in to 5 seconds in. Thank you, Jana. You have no idea how this has been torturing me.

On Friday night, we went out for honey wasabi shrimp, pad thai, and the best spring rolls in town. For dessert, we had ice cream cake. This was a very easy and tremendously yummy dessert if you like ice cream sandwiches, oreos, and cool whip, which I do.

The next morning, we went out for breakfast. Later that afternoon, we got take-out from the same place and watched Venus, which was alternately good and kind of disturbing. I liked it, though, mostly. It kind of made me think about my grandfather. He really kind of had a rebirth in his later years when he moved into the retirement home. The men were vastly outnumbered by the women, and a number of the ladies adopted him and crocheted for him and showered him with cards and attention. But mostly he liked the young women. The young women who worked there, the young women at his favorite coffee shop, the young women at the Y, the young women my brother dated. He LOVED them. He took pictures of himself with them and scotch taped them around his apartment. And I really don't think it was a perverted sort of lust he felt for them. I think it was mostly that they were young and alive, and they made him feel young and alive, too.

We took the dogs on a walk around the neighborhood after finishing the movie, which they definitely enjoyed if their near hysteria was any indication. For dinner, we went out for Japanese food. He had a sushi roll with coconut shrimp, avocado, mango, and pineapple sauce, and I had grilled shrimp and vegetables over fried rice and some miso soup. We also split some gyoza. That might be my favorite meal, honestly. Rice, veggies, shrimp, some soup, some dumplings. Perfect. More ice cream cake was had for dessert, enjoyed over about five episodes of season two of The Office. I realized I never saw most of season two, and I laughed until I almost cried, especially during the Olympics.

On Sunday morning, we went to the baptism of my friend's baby. (Thanks again to all who e-mailed or commented with advice!) It went very well. I did my godmotherly duties, amounting only to draping a little white garment over her after her head was doused with the water. She was uncharacteristically quiet and serene, and her dad said, "It must have been all that original sin that was giving her a stomachache." We went out for a very nice lunch after, and a good time was had by all. B. had poached eggs over crab cakes and english muffins with remolaude sauce, and I had seafood crepes. We both had shrimp and corn soup with andouille sausage. I had a cappuccino, he had a Newcastle. I don't know why I like to record what was eaten, but I do. It helps me preserve the memory of the experience somehow. As for being her godmother, I can't pretend that I will be able to advise her about faith or things of that nature, but I definitely promise always to be here for her because holy shit, she is cute, and I love her.

Speaking of memories, a veritable flood of them hit me while in mass for the baptism. I don't know if it was being around other people who went to school there or what, but I felt so nostalgic about the school and I felt SUPER nostalgic in the church. My parents were there, which was nice, and my dad took his volunteer photographer duties very seriously, darting around furtively during the actual baptism taking shots from various angles through breaks in the crowd and barking officially such commands as "Stand by!" My mom looked like some kind of radiant goddess in her blue and white checked shirt. Anyway, it was the first time that B. came to church there, and I found myself wishing for the songs to be really good. Sadly, they used versions of the Amen, Holy Holy Holy, Christ Has Died, Lamb of God, etc. that I didn't know or particularly like, and the opening hymn, closing hymn, and responsorial psalm were not all that. Thankfully, the choir came through with "Here I Am, Lord" during communion, one of my all-time favorites. I don't know how I know every word of every verse of that song, but I do. I guess it goes back to how permanently things are cemented into your brain when you do them over and over as a kid. I had a flashback to being in the choir loft way back in the day and singing at the top of our lungs a very rousing song called "Go Ye into All the World and Preach My Gospel to Every Creature!" There was lots of exclamatory singing in that song. My family is in full agreement that the best mass parts are by Bob Dufford. Two examples are the "Amen" and the "Holy, Holy, Holy," which you can hear (sung rather hideously, I'm afraid) here if you click on "Listen." I think these are from the St. Louis Jesuits Mass, whatever that means.

I guess my point is that even though I don't believe in God like I once did, I still like going to church sometimes and hearing the music I grew up on and being surrounded with so many memories of special times, like our fifth grade Christmas pageant where I played an angel with wings made out of coat hangers and aluminum foil, singing in the choir loft as a kid, all of the Christmas masses where my siblings and I stifled laughter over some crazy off-key choral nonsense going on, and all of the school masses and Sundays spent finger spelling whole conversations in the pews with my friend or my sister and how my friend and I used to pick out Eucharistic ministers who looked like movie stars, such as Tom Hulce, Diane Wiest, and the grown-up Yahoo Serious. I wished I could somehow take a picture of my heart while we were sitting there and show it to B. and say, "Here. Here is so much of my childhood and so much of who I am."

Looking forward to: a rock concert and, at long last, seeing Once.

Weepy weekend, whoa

This was a wildly weepy weekend. On Friday night, I drove to see my boyfriend. We went out for sushi and watched part of Planet Earth. Which for some reason sent me into a tailspin of weeping that I'll have to try to explain later.

The next morning, we headed to a museum that I could not have loved more. I kicked myself for not bringing my camera. We ate lunch, sharing crab claws marinated in amber beer and rosemary butter and a Thai chicken salad. I had a strawberry lager, which was scrumptious.

Later, we shared a pizza at Angeli and went to see Waitress. I started sniffling when Keri sang the pie song and cried and cried by the end. I must have had something hormonal going on, because that made two nights in a row. Certainly this called for gelato. He got white chocolate almond, and I had strawberry and vanilla.

The next morning, we crossed the lake to take care of some house business. We had our first coffee since Katrina at his favorite coffee shop, which just reopened a few weeks ago.

I became and remain obsessed with a five-note section of the Planet Earth theme. You can hear it here ... it's the first 5 notes of this interlude, lasting until about 8 seconds in. I played it on the piano as G E F G C. I know those five notes in sequence for some reason. Part of a movie theme? Another song from another life? It's been driving me totally insane. (That link goes to Windows Media Player, so apologies if you don't have it.)

Last night, my mom cooked crawfish etouffee, shrimp and corn soup, butternut squash with pecans and breadcrumbs, and ice cream dessert for Father's Day.

I found the actual recipe in an old church cookbook from 1980. I'll post it here at the request of sixmilechick, who asked for it months ago. Eat and love.

So as for my breakdown on Friday night. Which was some sort of strange existential crisis, brought on, I think by watching too many World War II documentaries, most recently American Experience: Battle of the Bulge. I told Jessie that I keep watching them because I'm trying to understand why and how that war happened. And she said, "I actually know exactly what you mean about having to watch 800 movies ... because something is too large to make sense of without a lot of different stories." And that is exactly it. And I told Jessie some of this in an e-mail and now I will say it here.

So the Battle of the Bulge really brought on the weeping. And after watching a tiny bit of Planet Earth, I started and could not stop. And he said, "What is wrong?" And I said, "I have a heavy heart." And he said, "Because of the Battle of the Bulge?" And I said, "Yes." And then I hiccupped a lot and said, "And the animals. All the beautiful animals. They're just trying to survive. And we're messing the world up. And we didn't learn anything from WWII." And I thought about soldiers with their feet frozen off and the little dead Belgian children frozen in the snow that the documentary showed. "And if we didn't learn from that war? What war will we learn from? We are at war RIGHT NOW." And we're killing the planet, and what is the point, and nobody lives for very long in the end, etc. etc. And I wept and wept. And nicely, he let me and patted me.

Anyway. All I'm saying is that World War II documentaries and Planet Earth are kind of a serious one-two punch in the soul, at least for me. I've hardly seen any of Planet Earth so far, but it's killing me. Especially the snow leopards and bottlenose dolphins and elephants who swim like they're as light as feathers or air.

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.

Strawberry love

I spent the weekend out of town at my sister's law school graduation. It was a whirlwindy but very fun weekend. It involved eating both local and national chain pizza and sushi. And watching The Office and laughing as my brother declared he'd rather die of tetanus than hang out in the emergency room. (He cut his foot by kicking the corner of a low-lying heater in her apartment.) And going to the student health center instead for his shot and killing time in the waiting room discussing the presidential candidates, abortion politics, the Rosie vs. Elisabeth feud, and the ins and outs of Lost. And going to a big family reception with an amazing buffet spread and greeting and meeting my sister's friends and professors. And eating gelato and Italian ice. And it was, for the most part, a very merry time. (We missed having my older brother there; his stand-by ticket plan didn't work out.) My sister looked radiantly lovely, and we were all very proud of her.

(Speaking of Rosie, I love what Nora Ephron wrote about her leaving the show.)

And we saw Waitress, which I loved and adored, and whose song I cannot get out of my head to save my life. ("Gonna be a pie from heaven above, gonna be filled with strawberry love.") It was so simple and funny and sweet. I think I loved it more than they did, because when I announced that I thought Keri Russell deserved an Oscar nomination, my sister looked at me like I was nuts. I loved watching Adrienne Shelly talk about how the movie is a love letter to her daughter, though that makes me unspeakably sad.

I also read two books during two very long days of travel. What Is the What was quite good and intense, and I'm very glad I saw Lost Boys of Sudan before reading it because I think it really informed and enriched my reading experience. I read it on the way there and would not shut up about it while my sister and I spent a while waiting for her car to be washed to the point where she drove us to the bookstore afterwards and bought it for her human rights professor.

On the way home, I read The Book Thief. I hadn't cried so hard while reading a book since my last airplane emotional breakdown, which was coincidentally also on the way home from visiting my sister. This was a very similar weeping extravaganza. I blew my nose into napkin after napkin from Au Bon Pain, and the woman next to me in the Chanel sunglasses kept looking at me out of the corner of her eye and shifting away from me uncomfortably. But I could not help it. I was so moved that what started as quiet tears running down my face dissolved into hiccups and blurred vision and whimpering and a runny nose, and it went on for page after page after page. I put my head in my hands when I finished it and kept on crying, partly because it was so beautiful and partly because I was so sad that it was over and I was leaving Leisel and her dreams and Papa and his accordion and Rudy with hair like lemons and Max with hair like feathers and Rosa and her curses behind.

I made the mistake of reading a few less than raving reviews of the book when I got home. I decided to ignore them and write the reviewers off as insane. I think I'm going to stop reading reviews of any book or movie I love because there's just no damn point. If they're positive, great. But if they're even remotely negative, I get irrationally protective and defensive and then secretly wonder if I'm crazy to have loved it. In this case, I know I am not. Sure, I can see why some of the aspects of the book would be annoying to some, but they worked for me. I loved the story and the characters so much that I don't care that the author employed some unusual and possibly gimmicky methods. It moved me utterly and profoundly, and I will love it forever.

Now I'm home and settling back into real life. My brother sat behind Lance Bass at Les Miserables last night. And here are some pictures.

(a little excited about her Friday Night Lights shirt)


(making his best Jim Halpert face)


(pretty building)

(posing for one too many pictures before heading to the reception)


(giant piles of sushi at the reception buffet)

(the graduate and me)

Jam-packed

This was a pretty jam-packed weekend, I cannot lie.

On Friday evening, my friend and I went out to an art hop, each having a cocktail and walking through various shops and galleries. We met her husband for dinner and each had a raspberry margarita, which I hadn't had in ages and which was the most delicious thing I have ever tasted. My crawfish burrito wasn't bad, either.

The next morning, I got up early and dropped off a bunch of giveaway stuff to a local charity, got a frozen coffee, stopped at the spa to buy my mom a pedicure gift card, and got my hair cut. That afternoon, I babysat for my friend's three-year-old and six-week-old, which was fairly uneventful except for the three-year-old's hiding under a blanket during the prologue of Beauty and the Beast and announcing loudly, "I DO NOT LIKE THIS MOVIE." She later explained that the part that sent her over the edge was when the Beast scratches the picture of him as the prince with his claws. We then watched part of Toy Story 2, The Velveteen Rabbit, and Lady and the Tramp. The newborn was pretty sedate and chilled out except during her diaper change, when she screamed so loudly I thought the windows might shatter. She immediately went into a blissful swing-induced nap after that.

That evening, I took my mom out for a Mother's Day dinner. We had a nice and fairly intense talk. Somehow we got onto the subject of how one of my deepest sources of anxiety and grief is thinking that my parents are worried about me, worried about their kids, and I felt compelled to assure her that no matter what happens to us, we will all be okay. We have each other, and we have them, and they made us strong. She said that was the best Mother's Day gift she could ask for. She shared how it is easy for parents to become obsessed with their kids' choices and become convinced that what they wanted for their own lives and what they need to be happy is also with their kids will need, but that she has learned gradually that what they need is not necessarily what we need and that they have no control over their children's choices. Like I said, it was intense. But good, ultimately, I think. Our waitress, I swear to God, was on speed and that was kind of nerve-wracking, but our food was excellent.

On Mother's Day morning, we ended up going to three different restaurants for lunch because wait times were so insane. My dad said, "Why don't we just drive up to New York and have lunch with your sister? It'd be faster." (My sister moved to New York yesterday; wow.) We also celebrated my dad's birthday, and I gave him some of these coasters, which he really liked. We settled in for a Greek and Lebanese feast, where my dad amusingly ordered a cheeseburger on whole wheat pita bread.

After lunch, my mom suggested that I come over to watch The Heart of the Game with her and I said sure. It was just as good the second time around, and she loved it. During the movie, we passed back and forth my dad's giant plastic bubblegum tub that he filled with chocolates for the class he teaches in wrappers in the school colors, which was enjoyable.

I spent the rest of the afternoon watching Music and Lyrics ... it was pretty dumb, but it had its cute moments, and I actually liked the music a lot. Seeing Jason Street as Hugh Grant's partner in the Wham-like 80s group was admittedly hilarious. (You can watch the video here.)

The bulk of the rest of the weekend was spent reading Ellen Emerson White's new book, Long May She Reign (the galley). All 708 pages of it, thanks to Melissa and her connections. I will save my "review"-like comments for when the actual book comes out in October, but I will say now that I never thought that I would see these characters in a new book, and the mere fact that one was written is thrilling. It was great to see Meg and the rest of the Powers family again, and Preston and Beth. I could say a lot more about it, but like I said, I think I should wait until the finished version is released.

Last night my boyfriend arrived safe and sound from his backpacking trip in the Smokies. He did not see any shooting stars, but he saw fireflies. Also, bears.

I wish I could tell you the story of my little brother in Vegas, but I don't think I can. Suffice it to say that it left my entire family in an ecstatic frenzy of text messaging, phone calls riddled with guffaws and screams, and hysteria.

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.

Enjoying

This lovely entry by Chiara.

The return of Elizabeth of Abeyance.

Mark Erelli. Especially his cover of Shawn Colvin's "I Don't Know Why" (which made me cry the first time I heard it and which you can hear here) and Deb Talan's "Comfort."

Counting the days until the release of Waitress. Felicity Porter and Captain Tightpants sharing the screen? It's too good to be true. I must be very emotional these days, because this review made me cry, too.

This poem as posted by Grace.

The fact that Long May She Reign by Ellen Emerson White is now listed at Amazon. (Thanks to Tiffany for letting me know.)

That Toni's book is now out for all the world to enjoy. I can't wait to read it.

Edited to add: this wonderful clip, which goes out to my sister.

Movie warning

In case you've been interested in seeing The Holiday, please let me advise you to think again. It's bad. It's so bad. I can't even believe there is a movie featuring Kate Winslet that I dislike so violently, but there is. The only person who acquits himself decently in this movie is Jude Law, of all people. He's very warm, funny, and likeable. He should abandon his eternal character actor quest and just start starring in every romantic comedy and accept that it is his destiny. The rest of them are just kind of idiots. In what universe are we supposed to believe that Kate Winslet is pining hopelessly for Rufus Sewell? The Rufus Sewell of Dangerous Beauty, possibly, but not the strange Rufus Sewell of modern times, the one who always plays a cad or a murderer and looks like he's had a botched eye job. Poor Kate. This was just not a good part for her. Cameron Diaz is ridiculous. She was as plastic as Jude Law was genuine and engaging. Jack Black tried, it seemed, to scale back the Jack Blackness, but it's impossible for him, I think. Luckily I think Jack Black is pretty funny, and I enjoyed his singing of the movie scores in the video store. But so many parts of this movie made me cringe or want to nod off because it just dragged on forever. I had high hopes for it despite its generally poor reviews, including my sister's, who warned me that it was terrible, not only because of Kate but because Nancy Meyers also wrote and directed what I think is one of the best romantic comedies of the last ten years, Something's Gotta Give. That movie is better than The Holiday by leaps and bounds, almost unfathomably. So please, spare yourself. Other than making me want to go to England when it's snowing, this movie was a giant waste of time. Skip it.

Uttering joyous

I've now been to the crazy exercise class five times. Each time, I feel this weird combination of weakness and strength, slowness and speed, pain and elation. It is bizarre. I have become obsessed with being able to jump rope for the full 60 seconds of the station without messing up. I finally did it on the last station of the last class, which was kind of a triumphant feeling. I tend to get it all caught up in my ponytail and stuff. I also am fascinated with seeing all of the fancy ways that people in the class jump rope. They do some crazy stuff, like banging it on the floor and flipping their feet around and doing things sideways and I am in awe of them. I still have to do it like I did when I was a kid, which is the basic move of two little jumps, but I'd like to do it with just one jump and do some fancy footwork. I am pretty much incapable of fancy footwork in any activity (dancing, jump roping, life) so I'll probably not try that but surely I can work up to one jump. That would make me feel proud. I am so glad to have discovered this class because I was really in a running rut post-half-marathon and this is exercise I actually get excited about doing. And there's plenty of running in the class, just shorter bursts of it at greater speed. I am not very good at the step aerobics part when they start doing complicated routines of turning around and shit like that, so I just do more basic moves. So far my heart rate is always in the 85th percentile as soon as we stop, and I don't know if that's good or bad. I hope it's good. It probably means I'm kind of out of shape. Or maybe it just means I'm working hard. Who knows? Nobody is judgy, and it's all just very brutal and also very funny.

I finally finished The Last Seven Months of Anne Frank, and I definitely recommend it. (I think I first learned about this book from Chiara.) I'm really looking forward to reading What Is the What and Human Croquet (also birthday gifts from my boyfriend) and Jeremy Fink and the Meaning of Life (from Melissa).

Mostly I've just been working, eating too many Thin Mints, worrying about Daisy's love of carrying dead animals around in her mouth and her getting old, and trying to get rid of some stuff around my house. After helping my boyfriend pack up some of his stuff last weekend, I realized how even someone with not that much stuff has too much stuff. And I am a person with a lot of stuff, so for sure I have way too much. If that makes sense. So I've been slowly boxing up un-needed tchotchkes (I'll always keep those tchotchkes that mean something to me, so I'm definitely not anti-tchotchke) and things like extra vases and t-shirts and candles that I never burn and books and stuff like that. I'm barely making a dent, but it feels good to do a little bit at a time.

Last week I had sushi with Maryelizabeth and her little girl, who never ceases to amuse and entertain me. I always decide, whatever age she is, that it's the perfect age for a kid. She used to be 2 so that was the perfect age, and now she's 3 so it's really all about being 3. It boggles my mind how we can carry on a full conversation with her like she's a grown-up person. I wish I could remember some of the conversations that adults had with me when I was 3. I wonder what I said and what they said to me. It's a shame she won't remember much, if anything, from these conversations when she's my age because she is so hilarious and smart, and I hope she will always know that about herself, that she was always that way.

This weekend my boyfriend was here. On Friday night, we shared crawfish etouffee and a spinach salad with dried cherries and walnuts and had some ice cream. On Saturday morning, we got a scone and a muffin and played a game of Scrabble. We went to my old roommate's son's first birthday party. The shirt I gave him was a big hit. We then headed to downtown to take some pictures at the Capitol, which was fun. It was a gorgeous day, and the Spanish moss and the pink azaleas and the sunshine and blue sky and the way that the oak trees made me think about Walt Whitman were just knocking me out. Then we went to get sandwiches and he went running and I mowed the backyard. We drove out down River Road for dinner, which was very good. (I had shrimp primavera and he had a hot crawfish salad and chicken and andouille gumbo and we shared an appetizer of shrimp and peppers in spicy sauce in a bread bowl and then we ate flan and it was all just really quite fantastic.) Then we watched United 93, and what can I say about this movie that hasn't already been said? I watched it with what felt like an elephant sitting on my chest. It was very well done and filled with me dread and then a very powerful sadness. That sounds very lame but it's hard to put into words. I thought that it's probably not the best movie to be watching shortly before getting on an airplane but then I realized that was a pretty gross example of making it all about me.

This morning we headed out for my favorite Sunday morning drink, cafe au lait and hot chocolate mixed and a banana nut muffin and to buy a new comforter and we ate leftovers and watched a few (sad) special features and then he went home and I went running. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful day outside -- beyond beautiful. I'm now sitting out on my back patio typing all of this up and listening to The Weepies and Zuko is lying at my feet and Daisy is doing that thing she does where she takes a few pieces of food in her mouth, runs a few feet away, and then spits them out and then runs around and then goes and eats them. And then sticking her paw in the bowl and knocking it over and then running to chase some birds which hopefully she won't catch because that would really ruin a very beautiful and peaceful afternoon.

And now, a few pictures from our day downtown.

The Heart of the Game

Recently I watched a documentary about a Seattle high school girls basketball team and their coach called The Heart of the Game that I first heard about on Ebert and Roeper. During the last fifteen minutes of the movie, what started as teary eyes and sniffling evolved into a full-on blubbering extravaganza. I was so overcome by the emotion and the suspense of the film that I just fell apart. I actually clutched my dog in my lap and sobbed. I cried even harder during the "making of the movie" behind the scenes feature, and then I cried some more throughout the "where are they now" special feature because of scenes I would tell you about but I want you to experience it for yourself. I did the kind of crying where before you know it, the collar of your t-shirt is soaking wet and you start hiccupping and are unable to breathe properly. Now, this was during a pretty hormonal time of the month, but I can't remember the last time I was so emotionally affected by a movie. The last true crying jag I went on was when I lay on the living room floor listening to "Tomorrow Is a Long Time" by Nickel Creek on repeat for an hour while boo-hooing my brains out. But that was a while ago.

If you're interested in this movie, I recommend not reading too much about it beforehand. Reviews and even the most basic summary of the film might take away from the enjoyment of being surprised by things that happen as it goes along. It was just so moving to me. I think part of why I loved it so much stems from how organically it all came together, which I learned about by watching the special features. It doesn't give too much away to say that the filmmaker met the coach at a friend's house and was invited to watch a practice and it all went from there. Then he spent the next seven years of his life of following these girls and this amazing coach.

And another reason I think it made me dissolve into prolonged, unending tears was because it reminded me so much of the high school girls I taught. And the truth is that even though I hated lots about teaching, I really did love being around high school kids because some of them -- the ones who didn't behave in such an asshole-like manner that I never really got to know them -- were some of the most hilarious and talented and awesome people I've ever met. And I think I cried because I wished I could have gotten through to the assholes and actually taught them something -- and let them teach me something, too. I cried because there is still an idealistic part of me that wishes I could have been to them what this coach was to his players. And because I wish I'd been an athlete so I could have had someone be that to me.

It starts off kind of slowly, but if you stick with it, it's gripping, powerful, funny, inspiring, and really just something I feel blessed to have experienced. It made me want to grab hold of life and try to do something great for myself and for other people. It made me want to have the courage to fight for what is right and against what is wrong. It made me want to become a real sports fan. It made me want to create art and tell stories. It made me want to work with teenagers somehow. It made me want to be fierce and brave and to find ways to bring out the best in myself and in everyone I love every single day. I know it sounds silly that a movie about girls basketball could do that. But I'm telling you. It really did.

Grapevining

It was an enjoyable weekend for certain. On Friday night, we headed out to my favorite Asian restaurant and ate spring rolls with peanut sauce, a vermicelli noodle bowl with shrimp and pork, and some coconut chicken soup, and for dessert, we shared a giant leftover slice of birthday cake. We watched the first hour of Babette's Feast but turned it off because life is too short. (Other movies I have tried to watch but have given up on in the past month or so: Ponette, But I'm a Cheerleader, the new All the King's Men, and Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby.)

On Saturday morning, we went to the farmer's market and replaced the birthday and Valentine's jewelry that I lost like an imbecile. We ate a gigantic orange blossom muffin and banana nut muffin and went running. It was my first run back after the half-marathon and the three miles went pretty well. I was a little winded because I tried to speed up a little bit, but it was a gorgeous sunny day and it felt great to be moving again.

After running, we headed to our massage appointments at the fancypants spa. I really did enjoy my massage overall, especially the use of the hot stones, which I'd never experienced before, but I wonder why they have you fill out little forms saying what you want them to focus on or skip if they blithely ignore your requests. I guess it's my own fault for being too paralyzed to speak up when the massage therapist does things I expressly asked her not to. I'm trying to remember what we did after the massages. I know we went to Starbucks. Oh yeah, we went to Supercuts! Which is always a fun time.

Eventually it was time to go see Zodiac, which was really interesting and had a great cast but was ultimately way, way too long. People used to bitch and moan about the interminable length of my beloved The English Patient that I sat through three times in the theater in a blissed-out reverie as time lost all meaning, but Zodiac is ten minutes shorter than that and it just really got slow sometimes. I do recommend the movie, but go during the day when you're not sleepy or you might be looking at your watch and yawning a lot. After the movie, we got takeout Lebanese food and watched a little bit of Saturday Night Live.

We tried to go out for brunch on Sunday morning, but there was a 30-minute wait all over the place, so we settled for cereal at home. My boyfriend went home, and I went to a giant garage sale and to Target with Maryelizabeth. Target is exhausting. My favorite garage sale purchase was a nearly full bottle of this for 12.5 cents. I also bought some old drinking glasses and a couple of sweaters that look like they've never been worn and spent a total of $4. Satisfying, I tell you.

After spending all the money in my bank account at Target, I took a bubble bath and got about halfway through The Last Seven Months of Anne Frank, one of my birthday books from my boyfriend. It's devastating, unsurprisingly, and it's nice to be able to picture a lot of the women interviewed for the book because they were also in Anne Frank Remembered.

In the effort to diversify my exercise habits, I attended the most insane class possibly ever held at a gym. There are different stations -- stationary bikes, jump roping, jogging, push-ups and sit-ups on big rubber balls, sit-ups with small rubber balls, various lunging with big poles, step aerobics, this weird bouncy blue thing that you sort of jump on with your feet, I don't even know. There must have been more than 100 people there. I kept messing up during jump roping and could definitely not do some of the moves at all, but I tried to follow what some of the people around me were doing. It was also very challenging in terms of my germophobia because I was using balls other people had just held or rolled around on, gripping jump rope handles that others had just gripped, and lying on mats that actually had splashes of other people's sweat on them. At first I had to keep telling myself that there's really no catastrophic disease that I can catch from someone else's sweat and eventually I just decided not to care. I think it was a healthy thing.

By the time I would figure out the moves half the time it was already time to switch to the next station and once I skipped a station on accident. It was very hard and very intense but also very, very amusing because I had no idea what I was doing and kept thinking of my friends. I first met Shelley, after all, under a tree in the second grade when we engaged in a rousing round of "I Like Coffee, I Like Tea," and Maryelizabeth will be very happy to know that there was grapevining. There was also a lot of yelling. People yelled throughout the class. Yelled in pain, yelled in triumph. Bizarre. (I wonder if there is yelling at Grace's boot camp.) It was an altogether different experience from running, obviously, and definitely a lot more fun.

Bright side

In other news ...

I'd like to recommend glamscience. There was shipping mix-up with my order, and the artist was gracious and accommodating. And her stuff is very cute, particularly this shirt that the universe deemed needed to be possessed by Jessie's daughter. Check it out.

As for the non-race parts of the weekend ... on Friday night, I had dinner with three girlfriends. We had a pretty good time if you don't count my very pregnant friend's increasing discomfort and my inability to stop staring inappropriately at my other friend's once small boobs.

I left early the next morning for the big city, where I was treated with homemade Maryland-style crab soup and homemade bread and salad (all delicious) along with a surprise stack of early birthday gifts! So that was really great.

Then ... I can't remember what we did. Oh! We went to see the Anne Frank exhibit, which was disappointing. I cannot recommend it because it was basically pages from a history book enlarged and hung on big banners and that was it. I guess I was spoiled by the exhibit at the Imperial War Museum on the Holocaust, otherwise known as possibly one of the best exhibits ever created on planet Earth, but this one was boring and not even worth going to. It saddens me to say that, but there it is.

Then we went to Bourbon Street to see my brother playing a long daytime gig with some of his friends in a band. As always, he was great, and the energy was fantastic even though the crowd was full of cheesy tourists dancing their hearts out to "Small Town" by John Cougar Mellencamp like it's the most happiness-inducing song known to man.

After that, we basically rested. We tried to have Italian pasta for dinner but had no luck so we ended up having Chinese pasta, which was pretty good if possibly not the most ideal thing to eat before a race. We started All the King's Men, which is just not good at all. "This movie does not do justice to a beautiful book!" I proclaimed. "It is shameful." So we turned it off and went to bed early because we had to get up at the crack of dawn for the race the next morning.

After the race, we ate a lot of leftovers and started a game of Scrabble and listened to The Darkness because it seemed like triumphant music and we were feeling pretty triumphant. I basically started passing out at the table once the feeling shifted from triumph to I Must Be Lying Down Right Now, so we retired for a nap. I burrowed under the fleece sheets for an undetermined period of time like a zombie, and then we finished our game and I went home, where I couldn't even stay up for half of the Oscars. (Luckily Kymm stayed awake to recap them for me.)

I might not have liked All the King's Men, but I did like Shut Up and Sing. What a great documentary. I've always liked the Dixie Chicks but haven't been a diehard fan or anything. It was great to see them win those Grammys recently (even though I felt their acceptance speeches were lacking), and the viewing of this movie could not be more timely after that awards night because it makes their sweeping victory seem so much more meaningful because you see what came before that album and all that went into writing those songs and how their future was totally uncertain and their careers and lives were re-written. It is a really great behind-the-scenes look at the music industry, the publicity industry, and how they were professionally and personally affected by the aftermath of Natalie Maines' comment that they are ashamed that that the president is from Texas. Plus, you can't help but be reminded when watching it that they are talented beyond belief. I highly recommend this one.

Meanwhile, I thought my birthday gift to myself was running the race, but I guess in actuality it's a new plumbing line. Oh, joy. The leak detection company came over this morning and found my leak by shooting air into the line, which I think made it worse, for what was once an invisible leak is now erupting in my front yard like a small geyser and flowing down the sidewalk to the end of the street. I got two plumbing estimates this morning and settled on one that seems reasonable for replacing my line between the water meter and my house, jackhammering the driveway, and re-paving the driveway once it's blown to smithereens. [That would be 1,100 big, beautiful dollars that I was hoping to spend on (a) car repairs or (b) airfare to some place pretty and far, far away on a yet-to-be-planned vacation.]

This picture does not even begin to capture the bubbly ferociousness of this leak. Oh, well. At least it's in the yard and not underneath my actual house. Bright side!

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.

Souper

Monday. It is sunny! Sunny days have been so few and far between in the past month around here that I'm still kind of in shock when a sunny day appears.

To catch up:

On Friday night, my boyfriend and I got Thai take-out (cashew shrimp and red curry with chicken) and watched the first half of Slither. I rented this because I am very amused by James Gunn's MySpace page (particularly entries like this one detailing a recent trip to London), which I discovered because he's the husband of Jenna Fischer (Pam on The Office), whose MySpace page is also fun (like this entry in which she tells about her own history trying to make it as an actress).

On Saturday, we went to the library, had a good lunch of yummy sandwiches, and embarked on our long runs of the weekend. It was in the upper 40s outside and only partly sunny, but the small amount of sun and the fact that it wasn't windy out were enough to make it bearable weather-wise. (I know the upper 40s is not really cold, but I am a lightweight who's cold in the house when the heater is cranked up to 72 degrees.) I put on probably too many layers than necessary and headed out.

Surprisingly, this was actually a pretty pleasant run for me, or as pleasant as a 10-mile run can be. I plotted out a much better route than last time, allowing me the chance to stop for a quick emergency bathroom break at my brother's house and a guzzle of Powerade in my driveway. I was tired, and my feet hurt, but I never reached the absolute depths of despair like I did on my last 10-miler. It was very helpful and motivating to have my boyfriend speed past me at one point at the speed of light and to have him drive to find me once he was long done with his run to check on me as I chugged through the last mile or so. I even felt like I could have run 11 if I'd had time, but I didn't as we had massage appointments scheduled. The massage was great except for when she had me lie on the floor to step on my glutes. I told her they needed stretching, and she did a good job with that, but my pelvic bones were mashing into the floor and that was painful. Once I got up on the massage table, it was much better. I think I will ix-nay the floor work next time. I appreciate a massage therapist trying new techniques, and the glute work definitely helped, but the floor was just way too hard on my already super-sore bod.

After the massages, we stopped for coffee and headed home so I could start The Soup. I'd eaten it once before as prepared by Shelley and have always remembered it with great love. She sent me the recipe along with lots of moral support. For some reason the soup seemed like a scary thing to make, but it wasn't at all. And it was very, very, yummy. (See the short Soup photo set here; it contains the recipe.) For dessert we had vanilla ice cream with shavings of dark chocolate raspberry Hershey's kisses.

At some point we finished Slither. This is a very, very, very, very silly gross-out comic horror film, and I can't really recommend it for anything other than the fact that it might make you giggle with its grossosity. And the fact that it stars Captain Malcolm Reynolds. We also played a game of Scrabble, of course, and went out to take a few pictures of a burned church.

After he went home, I went to see a local production of Annie with my Maryelizabeth solely because we both grew up loving Annie a lot (her more, even, if that's possible) and her three-year-old is really into the movie. It was fun, but we were both rather appalled that Annie's hair was brown. No red wig. No washable red hair spray dye. No effort to remove the lines about her red hair from the dialogue. It was confounding and quite frankly upsetting. Maryelizabeth could hardly speak about it after the play, so flabbergasted was she. "I could have lent them my Annie wig from childhood," she lamented. "My mom still has it!" It is a sad day indeed when Annie's hair is nowhere close to being red. WTF?

I went out for sushi with a friend during the Super Bowl so I don't have much to say about it, other than this: to my friends Amy and Erin and other normal, nice, and sportsmanlike Bears fans, I feel your pain about your team's loss. I truly do. But to the Bears fans who sent nasty, hateful, and gloating comments to me after the Saints lost to the Bears -- and those who displayed their ugliness for all the world to see -- all I can really say to you now is right back atcha, you big mean jerks.

After sushi, I started Grey Gardens. I've been interested in it ever since seeing the divine Christine Ebersole perform "Another Winter in a Summer Town," a very beautiful song from the new musical based on the documentary, on The View. I haven't finished it yet, but so far, it's pretty damn riveting. It's hard to watch sometimes, but it's mostly just fascinating. I look forward to finishing it. And now if you'll excuse me I am going to heat up some soup.

But before that ... I want to share my new favorite new running song with you. It's called "Don't Know Why (You Stay)" and it's by a band called The Essex Green. I discovered it as a mention over at Sweet Juniper, and you can listen it in its entire swell glory right here.

She dreamt of blue skies, soft breeze, and sunshine.

"The Word of Your Body" from Spring Awakening is one of the most beautiful songs I've heard in a long time. My obsession with this musical continues.

I finished In the Family Way, Julia Sweeney's monologue about becoming a mom, and I loved it. It was hilarious and moving and made me think, just like Letting Go of God. I've added God Said, Ha! to the top of my Netflix queue.

I called the water company last week after receiving an eye-poppingly high bill, and they told me that two months ago I was using 5 water units and am now using 50. What? They said I must have a leak. I can't find a leak anywhere. I'm disturbed by this but don't really know what to do. I asked them to come out and double check my meter because they told me to check it and I couldn't find it. I'm pretty familiar with my own front yard. If I can't find it, how can they? How am I suddenly using 10 times my usual amount of water? What the hell? The only thing I can think of that is coinciding with this is the season of winter and an increase in the use of my heater, but what does my heater have to do with water? (It's a gas heater.) I have no idea. I certainly haven't been watering any plants or the yard as it's rained basically every day for weeks and weeks. I hope there is not an invisible leak that is rotting my house from the inside out.

The episode made me cry, and now this column is making me cry. (Warning: includes information about recent Grey's Anatomy episodes if you haven't seen them.)

And now for a weekend update. On Friday night, we ate delicious corn chowder with tomatoes and basil and a kickass salad and homemade bread all cooked by my gifted and talented boyfriend, and we started Sherrybaby, which we finished the next day. (Gyllenhaal is of course great in it, but it's very depressing, and the love scenes were unbearably uncomfortable to watch.) We went to the gym instead of the park for our long runs because it was pouring down rain outside (as usual). He ran 10.6 miles in the blink of an eye, and I, like the wind (ha), ran 8 in a little under 2 hours. I was supposed to run 10, but I didn't really have the time because we had plans. Even if I'd had time, I probably wouldn't have run 10 anyway. That number holds too many icky associations after last week's horrid run. Running 8 miles on the treadmill was surprisingly not terrible, mostly because for the first time I ran on a treadmill with the little built-in fans. I am going to request that my own gym get those immediately because they honestly made all the difference in the world for me.

After our runs, we rushed on creaky legs to the matinee of Pan's Labyrinth, which was much scarier, grosser, more violent, and more disturbing than I'd anticipated -- but also much, much more fantastic than I thought it would be! This movie is beautifully done and thought-provoking and totally, totally moving, and the little girl in it, Ivana Baquero, is SO good. I was thinking that if the Academy wanted to nominate a child this year, she should have been the one (my love for Abigail Breslin notwithstanding), but then I figured that this would have had to go in the lead category which is already too crowded as it is. So whatever. But she was unbelievably good and impressive. The whole thing was so delicious and sad and amazing and everyone should see it with the understanding that you might have to cover your eyes sometimes if you're squeamish and it might possibly sometimes scare the bejesus out of you. This is definitely the best movie I've seen in 2007.

After the movie was dinner (pizza and beer and conversation) and dessert (he had the chestnut, and I had strawberry and chocolate chip). Yum.

On Sunday, we went to the French bakery for an oat bran muffin, a raspberry pastry, and the newspaper. We then went to Whole Foods and spent $1 million on a handful of items which is just what you do there, and I finally got some of this (in Cocoa) because Maryelizabeth has been singing its praises for weeks now. It is in fact very nice. Soon I hope to order this because both she and Shelley think it's God's gift and I think I need to take better care of my skin. It's just so dry (yet also oily!) that I fear I am going to turn into an old lady any moment now. We played a game of Scrabble and ate leftovers, and I headed home to visit my friend's new baby and do a big grocery shopping trip at Target, where I returned the peanuts that B. was eating merrily last weekend when a spider came out of the jar along with the nuts. It was sort of like something out of Pan's Labyrinth, actually.

And then I took a bath and ate more leftovers and watched Battlestar Galactica and that was my weekend. Oh, I also watched the SAG Awards and cried when Miranda Bailey won and during the entire Julie Andrews tribute. (P.S. Anne Hathaway looked gorgeous.) This video is for my sister, who, thankfully, like Janey Glenn after she fictitiously almost spun to death at gymnastics tryouts, is HOME, SAFE, and ALIVE.

Oscar Nominations

Actress

Penélope Cruz in Volver

I haven't seen this. She sure is getting raves, though. The consensus seems to be that she's just okay when in an English-speaking film but that she's amazing when using her native Spanish. I definitely want to see this, and I'm just waiting for it to come out here.

Judi Dench in Notes on a Scandal

I'm sure I've written before that I really love her even though I still don't think she deserved the Oscar for Shakespeare in Love (even though she's great in it -- 8 minutes just does not cut it, in my opinion). This movie looks dark and disturbing, and my memories of teaching are dark and disturbing enough, so I'm not sure I'll see it.

Helen Mirren in The Queen

It occurs to me that I've never seen her in anything. She is a super sexy and awesome broad, though, from what I've seen of her and read of her. I want to see this.

Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada

I didn't see this, and of course I like Meryl Streep, duh. She always gives great speeches. I don't know. I really can't see anyone winning this but Dench or Mirren.

Kate Winslet in Little Children

My co-worker today, who's usually pretty smart about movies, it seems, told me this morning that he's sick of Kate Winslet. Sick of Kate Winslet! I have to think this is just some kind of sudden lapse of sanity on his part. It is impossible to be sick of Kate Winslet. This movie never came out here, surprise, but I've no doubt that she's astonishing in it because she is astonishing in everything and I love her, the end.

Actor

Leonard DiCaprio in Blood Diamond

Huh. I didn't see this. I thought he was fantastic in The Departed this year. What can you say? He's a really good actor. There's really just sort of no denying it at this point.

Ryan Gosling in Half-Nelson

Oh, Ryan Gosling. I saw this movie solely because I read that he was so magnificent in it. And he was. This movie is dark and depressing and slow. It's good, but don't expect to feel light and happy when it's all said and done. I think Ryan Gosling is brilliant, and I hope that he and Rachel McAdams make lots of beautiful Canadian babies together.

Peter O'Toole in Venus

The only Peter O'Toole movie I have ever seen is Supergirl. And see it I did, lots and lots of times when I was younger. I loved it as a kid even while recognizing that it was ridiculous, and I loved how Sharon (Grease 2) / Doris (Fame) was in it. I should probably rectify this shame immediately by renting a Peter O'Toole movie because word on the street is that he's one of the greatest actors of all time. I should really get some culture. I hope he wins because he's old and he's still out there doing the talk show circuit like he's 25. I am rooting for him.

Will Smith in The Pursuit of Happyness

I did not see this and my former affection for Will Smith has sort of waned due to his apparent friendship with Tom Cruise. I can't help it. I still like him, but not as much as I used to. He seems to be becoming a part of that scary Scientology-influenced Hollywood Power Couple circle with Cruise and Holmes and the Beckhams and Jennifer Lopez and Marc Anthony and it's just gross to me.

Forest Whitaker in The Last King of Scotland

This never came out here. Everyone seems to think he will and should win. I don't know. All I know is that he directed Hope Floats and that's enough for me to love him eternally. (Speaking of, did y'all recognize Bernice as the bent-over girl on Grey's Anatomy recently? As in Bernice, who just doesn't want to be known as Bernice Matisse?)

Supporting Actress

Adriana Barraza in Babel

I never saw this; I'm not sure why.

Cate Blanchett in Notes on a Scandal

Well, what can you say about Cate? Only that even though she just won for The Aviator, it's impossible to get sick of her, just like it's impossible to get sick of Kate Winslet. In addition to being radiant and just insanely good, she also gives some of the most well-spoken and intelligent-sounding interviews I've ever read. I think Kate and Cate should team up in a movie so screens across the world could explode, unable to withstand their talent.

Abigail Breslin in Little Miss Sunshine

This nomination completely surprised me. I loved her in this, to be sure, and I even love her in the Hewlett Packard ad. But it didn't occur to me that she'd be nominated. But yay, bravo. Without her, this movie might have still been okay, but let's face it, she's the big reason that people love it -- because you root for her and you understand why the family is going through all of this absurdity to make her dream happen for her. Because you think you'd do all of that, too. You think you'd do anything for her. Aw, screw it. I hope she wins for this scene alone.

Jennifer Hudson in Dreamgirls

Everyone seems to think she will win. My sister saw this and conceded that she is really quite awesome in it.

Rinko Kikuchi in Babel

No clue except that The Fug Girls have very amusingly featured her lately.

Supporting Actor

Alan Arkin in Little Miss Sunshine

Sigh. Okay. There's no denying that he's very good and funny in this. Most of the big laughs in the movie come from him, I think. But it didn't really seem like that huge of a stretch. I KNOW that part of being a great actor is to make it seem like you're not acting, but I just don't really see that his performance was any better than Greg Kinnear's, Steve Carell's, or Paul Dano's (Dwayne). I'd put any one of those three over him, even though he was great and his character was hilarious, simply because they each just had a lot more range than he did. But I get that he's a veteran actor and that he's probably due this recognition.

Jackie Earle Haley in Little Children

Like I said, I haven't seen this, but I do have very strong memories of him in The Bad News Bears and am very weirded out that he is now a grown man with no hair.

Djimon Hounsou in Blood Diamond

I always enjoy his performances, but I can't really say much about this one because I'm unfamiliar with the movie and his role in it.

Eddie Murphy in Dreamgirls

I think it'd be nice to see him win. I really can't help but like him and respect him even though (a) most of his movies these days are totally idiotic and (b) he's been kind of an assclown during this whole recent paternity dispute with Scary Spice.

Mark Wahlburg in The Departed

Okay. I have always liked Mark Wahlburg and truly believe that he is a fine, fine actor. But I don't understand why he was singled out for this nomination over Matt Damon and Jack Nicholson. Huh? Matt Damon is consistently so solid, and I think he should have been recognized for this movie, and it's just kind of laughable that Jack Nicholson wasn't. I realize he already has at least 3 Oscars that I can think of off the top of my head and that he doesn't really need any more kudos, but he was fantastic in this! Wahlburg was really good and everything, but this is a head-scratcher for me.

Picture

Babel

Something about the ads for this just did not appeal to me. I admit it might have to do with my love/hate relationship with all things Pitt / Jolie.

The Departed

Loved it!

Letters from Iwo Jima

I didn't really like Million Dollar Baby, and I never saw Mystic River. He sure has been going balls-out on his movies lately. It's admirable, and everyone seems to love this one. I'd like to see it. Assuming it ever comes out here. Which it probably won't.

Little Miss Sunshine

Loved it.

The Queen

Hopefully I will see this soon.

(Previous Oscar nomination entries: 2001, 2004, 2005, 2006.)

Damn You, CamelBak

I've just returned from a disastrous run during which I attempted to use a CamelBak fanny pack contraption. What a fiasco. I couldn't get it to fit properly, and it kept riding up around my waist instead of around my hips and was bouncing around atop my tailbone and causing shooting back pains. Awesome. I was supposed to run a 10K this weekend for my long run to end week 9 of my training, and instead I ran under three when last week I was able to run eight. Failure to be certain. But for some reason I can't bring myself to care. It's rainy and dreary outside, and all I feel like doing is lying around in sweatpants watching season two of Cold Feet and eating coffee ice cream straight out of the carton.

Aside from the run from hell, it was a nice weekend. On Friday night, I made shrimp pesto pizza for my boyfriend and sister and pretended to be an actual entertainer as inspired by my Christmas gift of I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence. We started A Scanner Darkly, which was so irritatingly confusing to me that I started to pass out in involuntary protest. On Saturday morning, we went to the farmer's market for muffins and to the sporting goods store and to lunch, where I had the slimiest gumbo ever. It was like the chef blew her nose in the bowl and called it a day. I heard somewhere that if you don't cook the okra properly, it results in snotty gumbo. Clearly this chef needs an okra lesson. B. went on a run while I sat outside with the dogs and read The Wonder Spot (another Christmas gift) which I can happily report is much better than Melissa Bank's first book. We finished A Scanner Darkly, which I still didn't understand by the time it ended. After watching some special features, I liked it a little more even while realizing that a MAJOR plot point flew completely over my head. Oh, well. We played a game of Scrabble and eventually headed out to see Children of Men, which I did not love quite as much as Kymm did but which certainly made for a good night at the movies.

For breakfast this morning, we ate eggs with cheese and roasted red peppers and biscuits and orange juice squeezed with my new juicer. Another game of Scrabble was played, and coffee was purchased at the Starbucks that seems to be staffed by increasingly inept morons. Wrong-sized drinks, clots in the cream. Tasty.

My sister left today, and it is weird that she is gone. I know she has a life of her own far up in the frozen tundra, but it's always nice to know she's nearby. I'm glad we got to spend time together over the holidays and spend time together on New Year's Eve, just like we did in 2004 and 2005. I will miss her and hope she stays warm.

Movies of 2006

My boyfriend, lover of lists, inspired me to keep a list of 2006 books and movies. My book list fell by the wayside long ago, but I was faithful in keeping up with the movies I saw. Sometimes I felt like writing a little about a movie, but mostly I didn't. I also included a link to past entries if I mentioned the movie previously. So, here goes.

January

Serenity: (On DVD.)

I thoroughly enjoyed this movie, even never having seen Firefly. I watched the special features, and those made me like it even more. From an e-mail to B about it: "So, I have spent the afternoon and evening so far watching Serenity and numerous special features. And I have to say that it surpassed my expectations. I didn't really have any expectations having never seen Firefly, the show it's based on -- other than that I knew it was by Joss Whedon and that lots of people whose opinions on things like TV and movies I trust love it with a passion. And it's definitely Joss through and through, from top to bottom. He has a trademark sense of humor and nerdiness and timing and adventure that was always evident on Buffy and even Angel and definitely in this film. I feel like kicking myself for never watching Firefly, and I definitely intend to check it out on DVD immediately. It's amazing and really historic how a major film ended up being made from a canceled, failed TV series -- I think Firefly only had something like 9 episodes -- but even having never seen it, I think the movie stands on its own. It's just very entertaining. I can't help but feel affection for it simply because it's by Joss and I am so familiar with and fond of his style and his geeky fanboy enthusiasm. He is intensely likeable, and that kind of infuses his work with that strange essence that just makes you want to root for it as an audience member. If that makes sense. I think that going back and watching the series now will really enrich my understanding of the film. In one of the features, Joss was talking about he came up with the idea after reading a book on Gettysburg and starting to think about life in the frontier which made him think of the Millennium Falcon, because "most things do." He wanted to tell a story of people living in space but kind of the people on the fringe ... people who never would have been noticed by the Starship Enterprise. In short, I liked it. All of the idea of absolute power corrupting absolutely and outcasts and underdogs ... good stuff. And the outtakes were hilarious."

Brokeback Mountain: (In the theater with Eva.) It got me in the stomach.

Murderball: (On DVD with B.) I enjoyed this one. It was entertaining and cool to see how these guys in wheelchairs are so hardcore and balls-out aggressive about sports and life.

The Family Stone: (In theater with Eva.) Great cast, good moments, altogether not that outstanding. Mostly I was bothered by Claire Danes. I am sorry, but her sunken cheeks and veneers basically distracted me so much that I couldn't enjoy the rest of the movie once she appeared. But Luke Wilson is almost ridiculously likeable, and I thought that Diane Keaton was brilliant. And I always love Rachel McAdams, even when she plays someone really annoying.

Serenity: (Again, with B.) Even better this time!

The Constant Gardener: (On DVD with B.) A "good" movie, but a total downer.

Junebug: (On DVD.) Loved it. Loved Amy Adams, loved Alessandro Nivola singing "Softly and Tenderly," loved the screwed-up family dynamic and all of the little natural, real details. Loved it!

February

Cinderella Man: (On DVD.) BORING. Annoying accents. DULL, SLOW, A SNOOZER.

In Her Shoes: (On DVD.) Pretty good. Started slow. Cameron Diaz is pretty much annoying, but Toni Collette is wonderful, as usual. I cannot fathom how thin she must have been to begin with if she put on 25 pounds for this role, because she still looks one hundred percent thin. Whatever, Hollywood standards. It's hard not to love Shirley MacLaine, too. The best thing about this movie are the scenes in the "retirement community for active seniors." The older actors are great, and their characters are never played for a laugh at the expense of their being old. You know? And Mark Feuerstein is terrific, even though it's hard for me to think of him as anyone but Leo, the bike-riding doctor whom Karen foolishly lets get away on Once and Again. One of my very favorite poems is read at the end, and I will not deny that hot tears shot down my cheeks.

Happy Endings: (On DVD). I'm afraid that no movie by Don Roos will ever top The Opposite of Sex for me. It's just impossible. I about gave up on him altogether after Bounce, I really did. This is not a great movie, but I thought it was a pretty good one, largely because the cast is just tops. I was happy to see Jason Ritter, Kevin from Joan of Arcadia, in such a different role. I think Don Roos must bring out the best in Lisa Kudrow, because she's brilliant obviously as Lucia in The Opposite of Sex, and she's really good here. This is the first thing I've seen Jesse Bradford in since he was Cliff Pantone in Bring It On, and he gives a really energetic performance in this. I forgot that Tom Arnold was Tom Arnold. But the movie really belongs to Maggie Gyllenhaal as Jude, even though her character kind of sucks and I kind of hate her. She's so natural onscreen (in everything, really) -- she just sort of oozes around with her messy hair and super lanky bod rather than walking like a normal person. She's just so relaxed. Really good. And her voice is pretty damn good, too, deep and interesting. And Rory's dad, Christopher, is even in this movie, and the great Laura Dern, and scary scary Nina from 24 tells one character, "Get a court order, motherf*cker!" and I got a little scared of her in a Nina-like way. So. Basically, the cast is awesome. The movie's a little too cute for its own good, but I'm glad I saw it.

Brokeback Mountain: (In the theater with B.) I loved it all over again. Him, not so much.

A Very Long Engagement: (On DVD with B.) Lovely and magical and gory at the same time. Fell asleep in the middle of it but just because I was tired. It's impossible not to like Audrey Tautou, and it was very romantic.

Thumbsucker: (On DVD with B.) B liked this much more than I did. I thought it had some interesting ideas but was kind of a snoozer.

Nine Lives: (On DVD) Excellent. Loved the long continuous shots.

March

V for Vendetta: (At the theater with B.) Entertaining. Cool visuals and some good ideas.

April

Passion Fish: (On DVD with B.) Mary McDonnell is astonishing.

All the Real Girls: (On DVD.) I thought I would like this more than I did.

Broken Flowers: (On DVD with B.) Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Fell asleep.

Red Eye: (On DVD with B.) Pretty stupid. Still love Rachel McAdams.

The Squid & the Whale: (On DVD.) Good but horrifying at times.

May

Hustle & Flow: (On DVD with B.) Very enjoyable.

Everything Is Illuminated: (On DVD with B.) Different from the book but entertaining in its own way. Moving at times.

Art School Confidential: (At the theater with B.) I sort of liked this but was mostly annoyed by it.

The Beat that My Heart Skipped: (On DVD with B.) Slept through most of it, but the music was pretty.

June

Something New: (On DVD.) Perfectly cute romantic comedy.

Proof: (On DVD with B.) I liked this more than I thought I would.

Four Brothers: (On DVD with B.) Awful.

The Break-Up: (At the theater with Eva.) Bad. Just bad.

Transamerica: (On DVD with KG.) Loved it.

(Note: I wrote about the above five movies here.)

All Aboard: (On DVD.) Loved it. Cried throughout.

Old School: (On DVD.) Finally saw this. It was stupid but indeed funny.

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang: (On plane to Boston.) Loved it totally. One of my favorites of the year (even though it came out the previous year).

July

Failure to Launch: (On DVD.) HORRID.

Prime: (On DVD.) Uma's hair too blonde, Meryl fantastic, kind of a snoozer but not terrible.

An Inconvenient Truth (At the theater with B.) Both terrifying and a complete bore at the same time.

Superman Returns: (At the theater with my little brother.) The music makes this entire movie.

City of God: (On DVD.) Powerful and quite unforgettable. Brutal, though.

Clerks 2: (At the theater with B.) Funny and ridiculous.

Something's Gotta Give: (On TV.) Far exceeded expectations. Diane Keaton: brilliant. Jack Nicholson: a genius. Laugh-out-loud hilarious.

August

Howl's Moving Castle: (On DVD with B.) I think I dozed in parts of this. I don't think I really understood it. The animation was beautiful, but I might not be smart enough for Miyazaki.

World Trade Center: (At the theater with my brother and sister.) A bit much.

L'Enfant: (On DVD with B.) Hated it.

Little Miss Sunshine: (At the theater with B.) Loved it.

Brick: (On DVD with B.) Hated it beyond measure.

September

Friends with Money: (On DVD with B.) Just okay.

Lonesome Jim: (On DVD.) Slow and depressing but also sort of good and sweet.

The Very Infuriating Last Kiss: (At the theater with B.) Hated it with effusive passion.

Tsotsi: (On DVD.) Moving. Baby in peril movie. Made me nervous. But beautiful, really.

Drumline: (On DVD with B. and his brother). Entertaining.

October

Thank You for Smoking: (On DVD with B.) Funny but not as good as I hoped it would be.

The Lake House: (On DVD.) Cheesy but sweet.

Sorry, Haters: (On DVD.) REALLY scary, thought-provoking, and good. Robin Wright Penn was amazing.

Half Nelson: (In the theater by myself.) Slow. Good. But definitely slow. Ryan Gosling is definitely one of the best actors alive and anyone who disagrees is delusional.

The Departed: (In the theater with B.) Very, very, very, very, very, very exciting, imaginative, brilliantly acted, and entertaining across the board.

November

Stranger than Fiction: (At the theater with B.) I really liked this! I liked it more than I thought I would, and I've been remembering it affectionately and recommending it.

The DaVinci Code: (On DVD with B.) Sucky. And this is from someone who has definitely enjoyed a Ron Howard movie or three in her life, namely Apollo 13 and Splash and Parenthood.

December

Wordplay: (On DVD with B.) Funny, fascinating, and definitely worth watching.

The Devil and Daniel Johnston: (On DVD with B.) I was not familiar with Daniel Johnston. Now I think about him all the time. I almost fell off the treadmill when the Bright Eyes cover of "Devil Town" played on Friday Night Lights. I definitely recommend this movie.

Anne Frank Remembered: (On DVD.) Beautifully done. Powerful. Heartache-inducing.

Rocky Balboa: (At the theater with my brother and sister.) Certainly better than Rocky V, that's for sure.

Phew. In short, I guess my Top 10, in no particular order, and some of these might not have actually come out in 2006, would be Serenity, Brokeback Mountain, Junebug, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Transamerica, City of God, Stranger than Fiction, Something's Gotta Give, The Departed, and Little Miss Sunshine. Movies I would not see again if you paid me one million dollars were Brick, The Last Kiss, The Constant Gardener, L'Enfant, Failure to Launch, The DaVinci Code, Four Brothers, and The Break-Up.

What were your movie loves and hates in 2006?

Pink roses

Sometimes I feel like if I don't write about my weekends that they'll be lost somehow.

On Friday night, there was sushi. And, of course, the watching of Battlestar Galactica. On Saturday, there was running shoe shopping, beignets and half-cafe au lait/half-hot chocolate, a stop in my favorite store, a visit to the library book sale where I bought this CD for a dollar, a visit to this store where I accidentally plopped a giant blob of lotion all over the floor, a work fish fry, Vietnamese food, and Wordplay, which was very geekily enjoyable. On Sunday, there was a homegrown orange for breakfast and a game of Scrabble where I got the X, Z, J, Q, and all sorts of other high-scoring consonants so I actually won the game. Then I went on my first five-mile run on a cold sunny day. I was very glad to have my new headband/ear-cover thingie or I think my ears would have frozen and shattered onto the ground. I have no idea how I'm going to run 16 miles this week considering it's Tuesday and I haven't started but I suppose I'll make it happen somehow. Along with a six mile run at the end of the week but I'm not thinking about that yet.

What I'm thinking about is how I have a sudden new obsession with baked Cheetos, how sad and moving Anne Frank Remembered (that I watched Sunday night) was, how very good Case Histories is, how Zuko smells lately like he rolled in something that died which is possible considering the deer legs that were being tossed about to and fro in my backyard by the neighbors until I left them a very nice note asking them to please keep the frightening hoofed meaty limbs to themselves because they are in fact super gross, how Marley spends entire days with her entire body buried under my comforter in a hidden lump of warmth and purriness, how Khaki refuses to get down from her cat bed unless it's time to eat, how totally awesome the James Taylor Great Performances show was on PBS and how I cried at the end when they sang "Shed a Little Light," how Daisy just wants to curl up on top of the pillow that sits atop her crate in ball of shivering my life is so hard-ness, how I don't understand why it was 23 degrees here this morning and 40 degrees in New York City, and how happy I was made earlier by the appearance of pink roses in my office in recognition of two December fifths ago being the scary but exciting blind date I went on with the sender of the pink roses.

I've never really been a huge James Taylor fan the way my sister is a huge fan. I've always loved "Carolina in My Mind" and an old live version of "That Lonesome Road" but I've never really known much about him except that most of his music seemed kind of, I don't know, milquetoastey. But after watching this show, I think I am digging him on a deep level. I mean, maybe there's nothing wrong with singing songs about how we should shower the people we love with love and show them the way that we feel.

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.

Catching Up

I guess it's time to catch up.

Let's see ... my sister arrived late last week, and we descended upon the parental abode for dinner on Friday night, everyone bringing his or her favorite take-out. We ate Thai; my brother's girlfriend ate sushi; my parents ate homemade tuna salad. Comically, my little brother showed up not with food but with a big box of beer.

On Saturday morning, my boyfriend and I went to the market for giant muffins, and then he went running while my sister, my brother's girlfriend, and I went to hear my mom give a little talk on the importance of silence in our lives. She encouraged us to turn off the radio, turn off the TV, and not be afraid to be quiet sometimes and listen to what life might try to tell us in the silence. This was compelling, especially in light of all of my thoughts after reading Eat, Pray, Love. I think I want to become a meditator. Seriously. My mom did a great job, as always.

After the talk, I went on my long run of the week and somehow managed to run 4.4 miles. I have no idea how. I like this running program because every week ends with reaching a personal best. It's always made easier by a beautiful day outside. I got home, and we rushed off to our massage appointments. Massages are important.

Then it was to the coffee shop with my sister for a game of Scrabble and a disturbingly gross decaf cafe au lait.

That night seemed like a good movie night so we went to see The Departed, which was FANTASTIC. It's not really my kind of movie, but it was so exciting and everyone should see it. Leonardo DiCaprio has somehow transformed himself from the wormy days of yore and is suddenly strong and manly. Everyone in it does a great job. It's a highly entertaining movie.

Last week, I used my new detergent to wash basically everything in the house. I thought it smelled pretty good. My boyfriend sniffed my sheets suspiciously and declared that they smelled like hamsters. Namely, the cedar chips in a hamster's cage. I defended the detergent. "It's supposed to smell like vanilla and lavender!" But after further sniffing, I conceded that the sheets did rather smell like cedar chips. So much for the blissful aroma of the new detergent. No. It makes my bed smell like a rodent's lair. (Weirdly, I still kind of like it. Perhaps it's the fond memories of my childhood hamsters, Spaghetti and Meatball.)

Sunday is kind of a blur. My boyfriend left. I think I did some chores and grocery shopping. My sister came over that night to watch last week's Grey's Anatomy.

On Monday, I felt not at all like running after work but went out anyway for the first run of the last week of the one hour running program. It was a pretty mellow 30-minute run.

Last night, my sister and I went shopping for work-out clothes and I somehow spent $46 on a pair of Adidas Climalite running pants which she insisted were a good bargain even though they are possibly the most unflattering pants I will ever own. Then we got sushi take-out and watched this week's Heroes, a show I'd never seen before. It seems pretty good.

I had bizarre, complex, detailed teaching dreams all through the night last night. You know, the kind where you show up for school without lesson plans, not knowing where your classroom is, not knowing when your planning period is, having never seen a map of the school, having not set up your classroom to your liking, where your students have faces and personalities that somehow your mind has made up and they tell you things like you should stop pacing so much and stop wearing skirts to school because you have ugly knees. In this dream classroom, there were curtains instead of walls so the students would slip in and out of class before I could really see what they were doing. And it was a private school so I assumed they would work really hard and be really well-behaved. But they weren't. They were just mean. Teaching dreams are terrifying. They really are.

In other news, I've decided that a bowl of grape nuts with banana slices might be the world's perfect food.

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.

Wanted: Snow Day

Time for a weekend report. I spent Friday night with an old friend attending the engagement party of another old friend. It's bizarre sometimes to see your old friends being all grown up with people you don't even know, people who weren't a part of your growing up together. But he seems happy, so we're happy for him. We went to the coffee shop after and split a slice of banana bread. I watched Battlestar Galactica immediately upon returning home. It continues to be very good.

On Saturday, I got up at the crack of dawn and headed to the construction site for Habitat. We hauled, measured, cut, and installed vinyl siding for a little over seven hours. It was hard but productive work. I have a whopping bruise on my knee from banging it on a ladder. I'm not sure whether or not there's a correct way to carry a ladder, but if so, I'm sure I don't know what it is. After that, I headed to the big city, where we ate paella here and gelato here. It only recently reopened after the hurricane and thank goodness. We rented X-Men 3, which put me to sleep fairly promptly as most movies viewed at night do. On Sunday morning, we went out for brunch here and had pecan pancakes with sweet potato butter and cane syrup. Only I skipped the cane syrup because I don't like cane syrup. Never have, never will. After that, it was time for Scrabble and the Saints. (Woo!) I somehow scored 338 in Scrabble, which is bizarre for me.

In other news, I've been reading An Abundance of Katherines from book goddess Colleen, and it's quite enjoyable so far.

Last night I had a date with myself and went to Target and then to see Half Nelson. It was so nose-numbingly cold in the theater that I had trouble unclenching the entire time, which is always a bummer, and if you're a movie-dozer-offer like I am, you might want to see this during the day because it's pretty long and pretty slow. It's totally worth seeing because Ryan Gosling gives a pretty incredible performance, and the little girl is excellent, too. It's strangely dark and depressing and also sort of uplifting at the same time. It made me feel somewhat like breaking out into hives, as most movies featuring teaching do. But still. Recommended. But for the daytime.

It might be kind of sad to admit how excited I am to use my new detergent.

I'm going running after work even though for some reason all I want to do is lie on the couch and slurp up the salty, greasy goodness of ramen noodles and watch Veronica Mars. It's a scorching, blazing 90 degrees outside today after a surreal, dark, and windy day yesterday. Weather is weird. I want fall, real fall. Or a snow day. That'd be nice.

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.

The Last Puke

I'm trying to think of the words I could use to convey how much I hated The Last Kiss. I'm not sure it's possible.

This entire entry is full of spoilers.

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I guess I'll start with what I didn't hate about it. Blythe Danner was great. Luminous, even. Loved her. Jacinda Barrett was surprisingly fantastic. I mean, FANTASTIC. She cried and raged so well. She impressed me. And Tom Wilkinson can do no wrong, ever, in my opinion.

I think that overall I found Zach Braff's character so lame, pathetic, and unredeemable that I couldn't see much past it. Kind of like with L'Enfant. Sure, Zach Braff didn't sell his baby, but he was still a first-class prick.

I get that he was freaking out about the future. I get that an unplanned pregnancy and turning thirty could cause some freak-outs within. But I can't understand how I, as a viewer and as a woman, am supposed to be able to stomach his repeated lying, his premeditated deception, and his after-the-fact continuing to lie until flat-out busted -- and I certainly can't reckon how we are supposed to look back and consider it forgivable that he actually had the good sense to go home before screwing Rachel Bilson, and then, when caught by his nice, pretty, pregnant girlfriend who was understandably and justifiably upset that he completely and totally lied to her face and tried to get his friends to lie for him and fully went on a date with and made out with another woman, and a hot college student at that, he got so angry at her in response to HER anger (unfairly, immaturely, and ridiculously) and at what he, like a hateful and condescending bastard, deemed her "over-reaction," that he then returned to said hot college student's dorm room and slept with her, and then after realizing that she was, while hot, practically a teen, and he was an idiot, and lo, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with his beautiful, kind, pregnant, educated girlfriend of three years with whom he had a pretty great life -- what? We're supposed to believe that a few days of curling up on the porch in the rain qualifies as remorse and a basis for forgiveness? Oh, give me a big fat freaking break! I don't buy it. I don't think even Zach Braff as an actor bought it, so phoned in was his performance.

I felt so satisfied and like all was right with the world when she told him through the door that she didn't think she could forgive him. I thought, well, of course not. He was a complete clown and jackass and his epiphany was one that could have been reached by an utter imbecile. Hmmm...hot, young, semi-vapid college student with whom I have nothing in common whom I already had sex with so there's really nothing else to gain from that idiocy or lovely girlfriend whom I love who by the way is having my kid? Are we supposed to think that's truly a decision he had to dig down deep to make? It's the biggest "duh" I've ever heard of, and if we're supposed to find him commendable for coming to that obvious and should-not-have-had-to-lie-like-a-rug-and-shag-the-20-year-old-to-reach-it conclusion, well, this movie can vigorously and enthusiastically suck it.

I really wanted to like this movie. The soundtrack is good. As I mentioned, Blythe and Jacinda and Tom Wilkinson were very good, and the guys who played his friends, especially Casey Affleck (pointless though their parts might have been, overall), were good. But ugh. I was growing more and more enraged as my boyfriend and I discussed it when it was over and I was like, "What kind of message does this send to men and women? That men can feel afraid of commitment, cheat with prepubescent hussies, realize they've got it made at home AFTER they've gotten their jollies out in the vagina of someone like Summer from The O.C. and blasted their partner's hopes, dreams, heart, and trust to smithereens in the process, and then be taken back because it's acceptable as a full-grown adult to behave in this reprehensible, dog-like way because they're 'scared'? What? What? This offends me as a woman!" He said I can't act like this movie was made to send such sociological messages and that it was just meant to be entertaining, but it wasn't entertaining to me. It just made me angry and a little bit sick. I can't recommend it because when that door swung open in the end, I wanted to barf inside my popcorn bag. And had I had a popcorn bag, I just might have done so.

Edited to add: I just read my first review of the movie, this one, and, as usual: Amen, Pajiba. Amen.

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50 "Best" High School Movies

Not a stalker.
Originally uploaded by Elizalou.

Entertainment Weekly has posted its list of the 50 best high school movies. Here's my take on the choices.

50. Splendor in the Grass ~ 1961

I might need to watch this one again, because I don't think I got through it the first time. I think part of it was that my young girl's heart could not bear seeing Natalie Wood as anyone but Maria in West Side Story. I was like, what do you mean she's not Puerto Rican?

49. Sixteen Candles ~ 1984

Its placement as #49th on this list is preposterous. This movie is great not so much because of the Samantha / Jake Ryan story but because of all of the secondary characters. Come on. The grandparents? Long Duck Dong? I mean, "thanks for lending me the donger"? It doesn't get much better than that.

48. Just One of the Guys ~ 1985

I've only seen parts of this movie. It never really did it for me.

47. Napoleon Dynamite ~ 2004

I've only seen this once, in the theater, and I did laugh very hard. However, I didn't anticipate the pop culture phenomenon this movie would become, and I think its overexposure all over the internet and strange tie-ins you can still buy at places like Spencer's Gifts kind of ruin this movie for me in retrospect. Tina Majorino is the best thing in the movie. She usually is.

46. Flirting ~ 1992

I've never seen this.

45. My Bodyguard ~ 1980

I've never seen this.

44. Can't Hardly Wait ~ 1998

This is a pretty good movie. I actually said to my boyfriend the other day, "Why y'all gotta waste my flava? Damn!" (And sounded quite stupid doing so.) Jennifer Love Hewitt and the fact that the title doesn't work grammatically notwithstanding, some of the performances in this film are fantastic, especially those of Lauren Ambrose, Seth Green, Ethan Embry (who will always be Mark in Empire Records to me) (SPEAKING OF, WHERE IS EMPIRE RECORDS ON THIS LIST? TRAVESTY!), and Charlie "I Can't Feel My Legs" Korsmo.

43. Stand and Deliver ~ 1988

Uniformly excellent and one of the many movies about teachers that completely warped my perception of how I'd be as one. Mr. Escalante is of course now Commander Adama, so, rock.

42. Fame ~ 1980

SO GOOD. It took me a while to realize that the bald, mean Dr. Romano on ER was the very curly-topped, very sensitive and artistic Montgomery. And that Doris ended up being Sharon in Grease 2. Anyway, this movie is fantastic and dark and inspiring and cheesy and the scene when they all start DANCING IN THE STREET to Bruno's song makes me want to scream. It's that awesome. Plus, Leroy.

41. Can't Buy Me Love ~ 1987

This movie would be much, much, much closer to the top of my list. This was an oft-watched classic at our house. I still know much of it by heart. All the way down the line, it is wonderful. Sometimes it's hard for me to reconcile that Ronald Miller is now McDreamy. I mean, Ronald Miller would never have grown up and cheated on Cindy Mancini, no matter what. And he never would have turned around and broken Meredith's heart and then jerk her around season after season. He was a jerk for a while in the movie, but clearly he reformed in time to deliver the awesome "Cools, nerds, your side, my side. Man, it's all bullshit. It's just tough enough to be yourself" speech at lunch. Anyway. I love this movie.

40. Risky Business ~ 1983

This movie has never done it for me, and I think today I would go blind if forced to behold Tom Cruise in his underpants.

39. The Virgin Suicides ~ 2000

I didn't like this movie. I guess I am not deep enough.

38. Bye Bye Birdie ~ 1963

One of my most beloved films of all time. As a child, I think I sincerely believed I would get to grow up and look like Ann-Margret in that pink outfit. I did not. And Conrad Birdie was a sleaze and Hugo was an idiot, but it's so beautifully done, and every single adult is perfect -- Paul Lynde? Dick Van Dyke? Janet Leigh? Maureen Stapleton? It was a dream cast. This movie is dreamy. Everyone should watch it.

37. Friday Night Lights ~ 2004

I ended up fast-forwarding a lot of this movie even though I really wanted to like it, mostly because it started the kid from Sling Blade all grown up.

36. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire ~ 2005

I don't know that I'd exactly call this a teen movie. I don't know. I've never been too fond of the movies, honestly. I think Harry was miscast, and I've never quite gotten over that.

35. Brick ~ 2006

HATED IT. A lot.

34. Get Real ~ 1999

I've never seen or even heard of this.

33. Hoop Dreams ~ 1994

I've never seen this, but I'd like to.

32. Scream ~ 1996

Scream was good. They should have stopped with the first one. And all of its imitations suck. You can't often effectively imitate an imitator, you know?

31. The Karate Kid ~ 1984

Sigh. What's not to love about this movie? Nothing, that's what. I still get goosebumps when Elisabeth Shue runs to Daniel in her skirt and knee socks at the end. And I still feel intense dislike for Johnny and freaking Sensei. WHAT assholes. This is one of the best underdog stories ever. Love, love, love.

30. Bring It On ~ 2000

It's easy to dismiss this movie as stupid until you've seen it. It's really good. Silly, but smart at the same time, sort of like Can't Hardly Wait. (But much better.) Great casting.

29. Gregory's Girl ~ 1982

I've never seen this.

28. Back to the Future ~ 1985

It seems very wrong to just slap this movie in the middle of this list. We loved this movie so much when we were kids, especially my sister. And I have distinct memories of Shelley and I saying "1.21 GIGAWATTS!?! 1.21 gigawatts!" to each other on a regular basis.

27. To Sir, With Love ~ 1967

See #43. Damn Sidney Poitier for making me think I could change lives like he did. Damn him!

26. Pretty in Pink ~ 1986

Well. I never had super-strong feelings for this one. I've seen it a billion times, surely. But I could never really get worked up into much of a froth about the Blane vs. Duckie debate. I thought that she and Duckie were better off as friends, and I also thought that Blane was just about the wimpiest, lamest "heartthrob" ever put on film. And the stuff about her parents was just highly depressing. And I thought her prom dress was very ugly. The end. Annie Potts was terrific, though. They should have made the movie about her.

25. Hoosiers ~ 1986

I've never seen this.

24. Rushmore ~ 1998

I need to watch this again. My primary feeling toward this movie these days is that it's highly overrated.

23. Cooley High ~ 1975

I've never seen this.

22. American Pie ~ 1999

Funny. Gross, but funny.

21. Grease ~ 1978

Please see my thoughts in this entry for my feelings about this movie. This movie needs to be very, very close to the top of this list. Please!

20. Dead Poets Society ~ 1989

I'm starting to get downright indignant toward the rankings on this list. In short, they blow. This movie is basically perfection for me. I don't understand how anyone with a heart and soul cannot love it. I don't care how you feel about Robin Williams. It's wonderful and beautiful and sad and lovely and I showed it to every one of my classes, and they all loved it, too. I seriously could start crying just sitting here thinking about it, so I have to stop. I just looked him up to see what that rat bastard Cameron is up to these days. Apparently he guest-starred on House, which of course stars Robert Sean Leonard, who played the exquisite Neil in this movie. Interesting. I am filling up with rage while recalling the way he spat out, "LET. KEATING. FRY." Hate. I hate him still. But I love all the rest of them. Especially Knox Wimberly/Dan Rydell.

19. The Last Picture Show ~ 1971

I've never seen this.

18. Rock 'n' Roll High School ~ 1979

Never seen it.

17. Peggy Sue Got Married ~ 1986

Never liked it.

16. Lucas ~ 1986

Mortifying. Good. I remember something about a cockroach. Or locusts. Something about bugs. I don't know. I felt sorry for Corey Haim and didn't buy Charlie Sheen as a nice guy, that's for damn sure, even then.

15. Carrie ~ 1976

I've never really seen this, but Sissy Spacek's daughter sings on the soundtrack to The Last Kiss and has a very pretty voice.

14. Donnie Darko ~ 2001

Please. I don't even pretend to have gotten through or understood this movie. Life is too short.

13. High School ~ 1968

I've never seen this.

12. Mean Girls ~ 2004

Very good, but I'm so sure this is ranked so highly. It just came out! Give it a little time and let's see how it ages, okay?

11. Say Anything ~ 1989

If I'd made this list, this would be number one. I know I've read online before that some people think Lloyd Dobler is a stalker and that this is a bad movie, but I don't know how they can say that if they've actually seen it. Lloyd is not a stalker. What does he do that is stalkery? Nothing. To say that someone is a stalker is to say that there is something menacing or unstable about him or that he is threatening in some way. And I'm so sure. Lloyd? PLEASE. Diane Court is still in love with Lloyd utterly and completely and breaks up with him about as convincingly as -- I don't know -- someone who obviously doesn't want to break up with anybody. That he shows up at her house with the radio might be unrealistic and out of character for any teenage male who'd probably never come up with an idea so awesome, but I'd hardly call him a stalker. I just can't bear to have anyone say anything negative about this movie. La la la. Don't want to hear it. I love it completely. If there is anything negative to be said, it's that Lloyd Dobler is an ideal that doesn't exist in real life. And no teenage girl will ever meet a teenage boy who is as wonderful as he is. And that is pretty disappointing to teenage girls. I know, having been one.

10. Ferris Bueller's Day Off ~ 1986

Twenty years. This movie is twenty years old. It is still in a class of its own, I think.

9. Election ~ 1999

I think I'm just going to have to let go of the rankings or I am going to keep getting more and more livid. You've got two Matthew Broderick films back-to-back on the list, though, and HELLO, which is the more beloved and classic film? Not this one. This movie is well made but it's just disturbing and Tracy Flick is wretched. Matthew Broderick is wretched. It made me feel gross.

8. Boyz in the Hood ~ 1991

I've never seen it.

7. Clueless ~ 1995

This is definitely it its rightful place in the top ten. It's still totally in the lexicon of, I don't know, my universe and that of my friends. It's brilliant and hilarious and touching and absurd all at the same time. This is a great movie.

6. American Graffiti ~ 1973

I've never see this. I know, I know.

5. Heathers ~ 1989

I think this belongs here on the list. Bitterly funny and bitterly cruel.

4. Rebel Without A Cause ~ 1955

I've seen this, but I never really got very into it.

3. Dazed and Confused ~ 1993

Amen. I've seen this movie so many times at this point that I'm not sure it's normal. It's a movie about seniors in high school that came out the year I was a senior in high school, so it always rang very true to me even though it was set in 1976. I saw in the characters people I knew in real life. Especially Slater. My friends and I sure hung out with a lot of Slaters back then. Why, I do not know.

2. Fast Times at Ridgemont High ~ 1982

I must not have been allowed to watch this or something because it's never really been on my radar.

1. The Breakfast Club ~ 1985

I can't say I disagree with its place as number one even though I think Say Anything would be there on my own personal list. This is by far the best of the John Hughes movies. Not one of the actors isn't perfect for his or her role. Pretty much every line in this movie hit home for me when I first saw it and still does today. And Ally Sheedy's declaration of "when you grow up, your heart dies," is something I've been fighting against since the moment I heard her say it. That said, Claire is still annoying, and it's very unsettling as a young person to be so turned on by someone like John Bender who is clearly every teen girl's nightmare. GOD, being a teenager is confusing. This movie really captures that. I loved it then, and I love it now.