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.