Frequent Citations

Frogging And Finishing

When you unravel knitting, it's called frogging.  I don't know why.

TFL and I had a great three-day weekend.  I didn't work at all, which was fantastic.  We got a bunch of stuff done around the apartment, and did some erranding, and while out running aforesaid errands happened to wander into a yarn shop, where I signed up for an advanced class on finishing.  That was my Valentine's day present, and I was very excited about it.  Even TFL got sucked in by the yarn and picked out some beautiful alpaca for a scarf.

Then he picked out a pattern on a swatch I had done years ago and it took me an hour to figure out what stitch it was.  (Woven, in case you were wondering.  It makes a lovely flat surface on the front and a fun diagonal knobby pattern on the back.)

We got takeout from my favorite restaurant, and he brought back a bag of scrumptious chocolate macaroons.  Yummmm.

And we even went to see Avatar.  Monday, midafternoon, and the theater was packed.  Here's my insightful, in-depth review:  the plot is your basic cowboys and Indians, the special effects are phenomenal but not something I'd want in every movie, and it was generally good fun.

In between all that we've been watching the Olympics, which I absolutely love.  The schmaltzy stories, not so much, but I could watch the sports all day and all night.  There were only two parts of the opening ceremonies I liked, though:  the Greeks walking in first (we have continually pondered what the ancient Greeks would have made of something like snowboarding -- I think they would have loved it), and k.d. lang's rendition of "Hallelujah," which was so gorgeous I promptly ordered the cd.

Oh, and tonight I went to the finishing class, and you will all be relieved to know I got an A.  Heh. 

Fidelity: Or, For Better For Worse

We went to see "It's Complicated" the other night, TFL and I.  The acting, of course, was superb.  But as we left the theater we turned to each other with some puzzlement --

"Did that strike you as a little . . . weird?"

"Yeah -- like it's okay to just throw away a marriage . . . like there's nothing valuable in a long-term relationship."

We spent the whole walk home puzzling it out and came to a couple of conclusions.  First, obviously, we're either old-fashioned (to our friends and fans) or fuddy-duddies.  Second, we remain mystified by what people think "or worse" means when they vow to remain together "for better or for worse."  And let me cut off all squabbling about abuse by saying here and now, for the record, that I think abuse pretty effectively dissolves marriage vows as fraudulent, because no one capable of real physical abuse is also capable of sincerely vowing to "cherish," a concept wholly exclusive of abuse.  Now back to the point:  what do people think "or worse" means?  And do they leave marriages just because, as this film implies, they think the grass is greener?  And when they're on the other side of the fence, they sometimes look back and think no, wait, it was greener where I was before?

I figure, average life-spans being what they are, TFL and I are heading into the middle years of our marriage.  Sure, we were lucky, true love plus two pretty nice and decent people (if I do say so myself) is a good way to start a marriage.  But, and avert your eyes dear reader if you fear that I am about to shatter your illusions, even true love takes work, and even we have faced "or worse."  To state the obvious, it''s not a fairy-tale life we lead, wherein TFL and I are always happy and delightful people.*  On the other hand, we really know each other, better than anyone else in the world.  We can communicate with a look, we have our shorthand, we have our history.  We are a part of each other, forever, come what may.  We can still make each other laugh.

There's something infinitely valuable, infinitely precious, in being given the chance to be together for decades.  It's not something to squander or take for granted.  It's worth the "for worse."

There's a scene in the movie where the divorced couple is sitting on a swing together, space between them.  The actors being as phenomenal as they are, you see the mutual understanding, the deep connection forged over the years of fighting and raising children and eating delicious meals together.  You see the gift, flawed and wonderful, and you see them walk away from it.  They just -- walk away. 

Idiots.  

*At least, I'm not always delightful.  There were those 5 minutes back in 1993, and oh yeah, that entire evening in 2005... 

Jailbreak

I watched Out of Sight last night.  It was rather charming, but then I have weak spots for both the star and Detroit.

I've discovered a terrible thing.  You can buy movies on Amazon for about what it would cost to rent them.  And then you can play them (theoretically) from anywhere you can sign into the site.  And you can watch the movie immediately.  How cool is that?  Even Netflix you'd have to wait a day or two for the movie to come.  But I think of a movie and I could be watching it within seconds.  Plus we have the gizmo to hook the laptop to the tv screen so I get a beautiful picture. 

I'm telling myself that I won't be buying a movie a day.

Maximum Inefficiency

Somehow this weekend I managed to not do One Single Thing that I needed to do.  Except maybe buy some blueberries, but in the grand scheme of things that should have been a little lower on my list.  Alas.

Last week I had a flurry of summer-associate related activity: two lunches and a breakfast.  Egad.  The total for ten meals was about $460.  Sort of takes you aback, doesn't it?  Especially given that alcohol is (sadly, perhaps) out of the picture for these meals.

And in other (not entirely unrelated) news:  most summer associates I've met  have been great, and one or two have been utter twerps.  But I do feel for them--they weren't told if they were going to get an offer before they left and instead get to wait for a week for the news.  Ouch.  Of course, in the real world/normal professions, they'd never know where they'd be working upon graduation, much less know a full year ahead of time (or more, now, with the deferrals).  And they'd certainly never be paid handsomely for a few weeks of living a fantasy life and being fed like geese destined for foie gras.

In entirely unrelated news, TFL and I went to see 500 Days of Summer.  I recommend it.  Quirky, mostly likeable characters, and it got a zero-z rating from TFL.  He claimed that had something to do with the large coffee he consumed immediately prior, but you know that hasn't ever stopped him from dozing right off when he was bored.  Plus it has a great soundtrack, and I do not say that merely because we happen to have most of the songs in our library.

Dr. Horrible: A HUGE Flaw

Mind you, I knew about this problem when I ordered the cd.  But still.

The soundtrack for Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog does not have any songs from Commentary! The Musical.

If a second cd isn't immediately released with those songs on it, I shall be annoyed.  I can't keep watching the dvd just to hear Steve's song.

*yes, yes, yes, yes*

Grand Old Cars, Grand Old Actors

TFL dragged me (guilted me) out of the office last night and into the movie theater to see Gran Torino.

First, I must say that the car was a beauty, sight and sound. 

And it was--oddly enough--a lovely movie.  Given the subject matter and the prickliness of Clint Eastwood that's not the word I would have expected to use to describe it, but somehow it's right.

TFL and I have a tendency to dissect a movie after we've seen it, talk about why we did or didn't like it, what worked and what didn't.  One thing I had to say as we walked home was that I really cannot say whether Eastwood is a great actor or not, but if he is one I think it's probably within an extremely limited range--yet when he's in that range (and he so definitely was in this movie) he's wonderful.  His whole body conveys all the right notes for his role.

Another thing we enjoyed was the familiarity of the whole scene.  TFL's grandfather had almost the same garage, in the same part of the state.  His relatives had the same job.  We know people like that.  So that was neat.

I think the best part about the movie, though, was its complete consistency.  Eastwood's character was true to himself at every moment, even when that meant changing.  That's a tricky thing to pull off, creating total consistency without becoming totally boring, and here it worked. 

I don't think we're going to go see The Pink Panther.  I love Steve Martin, I do, but he's no Peter Sellers.  I'm also not keen on seeing Confessions of a Shopoholic, although the book was cute.  But the next Russell Crowe film coming out?  Definitely going to see that!  In, you know, all my spare time.  When TFL drags me out of the office.

The Evil-y Evil Arrived

Yes, boys and girls, Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog arrived today!  So I didn't get home until almost midnight, do you think that stopped me?  What better time to celebrate evil genius?

Of course I saw it when it was first released, and if you haven't seen it yet then there is nothing better you can do for the next 40 minutes than go watch it.  Now I'm wondering what kind of mental deficiency I was suffering that I didn't order the cd too, because I want all those songs now, please.  (The same person who told me about Dr. Horrible coming out is now reading this and saying "Uh, hello? ITunes!")

Anyway, work is back to nuttiness after a brief semi-lull.  I have to order cookies (having second thoughts about the peanut butter patties) and figure out how to not eat them all.  TFL is muttering about taking a martial arts class.  Dogness is still happy in the delusion that the world is all about her and her frisbee. 

Chinatown

It's been a hectic few days. Wednesday was devoted to moving GirlChild's stuff to her new apartment. Boy and I spent all day on that, and she still has things left here in the flat. Then I spent most of the night packing and organizing things to store with my parents until we get ourselves situated and find a storage solution on our new coast. Thursday Boy and I packed the rented SUV as full as we could, drove to my parents, and stashed a few tidy piles of boxes in their basement. We then collapsed until Friday morning, when I delivered him to his dorm, ran around getting some of the things he needed and helping him set up his room, and then finally drove home (traffic was very light, Mother).

So by last night I wasn't up for doing much more than sprawling on the couch and watching a movie. I popped in Chinatown, freshly delivered by Netflix, and settled in to be awed. I was, in a word, disappointed.

It's important to remember, when reading my opinions about movies or books, that I am shallow. Also, the only tragedies I'm willing to subject myself to are Greek drama, Shakespeare, and sometimes the news. Otherwise, I prefer to avoid pointless violence, stunted character development, and wallowing in misery.

I will say that the movie was beautifully filmed, and it was interesting to see such a young Nicholson. But the ending felt both contrived and awful. And it was too obvious: look at the horrible man and his horrible deeds and know that he will be repeating those horrible deeds, unmoved by the devastation he wreaks. Bah. The movie does have some excellent dialogue in it though.

Ah well. We're not moving our dinosaur of a television, so if anyone has recommendations regarding a not-huge flat-screen we can buy after we move, that would be fab.

I Miss Movies

TFL, a friend from school, and I all went to see Iron Man last night. It was utterly fantastic. True has the perfect write-up for it (goes to show what a film major can do for you).

I hadn't seen a movie since last summer. Unacceptable. There are a couple of others out right now that I want to see too. So if anyone out there is in the mood for movies, let me know.

After all, I can't study for the bar ALL the time, can I?

(Don't answer that.)

Literary Me

I've gone on a Shakespeare kick while knitting presents. We watched Shakespeare in Love the other night, which has some of the best costumes in it. I love Ben Afl*ck in it--a minor role, but he plays it really nicely as someone with major presence but only on the periphery of this story.

Anyway, after watching that I loaded up on Shakespeare. Yesterday I watched Twelfth Night and Love's Labour's Lost. Twelfth Night is, in my opinion, much the better play. How can you not adore a play with a line about "Patience on a Monument?"  But I may be prejudiced by the versions I watched yesterday. Twelfth Night was in a relatively timeless setting--some European location, sometime before 1900, you know the type. But Love's Labour's Lost was set in 1939 and turned into a musical--which could have been a brilliant move, if it weren't for the shoddy casting and abysmal choreography and generally painful singing.

Not every actor can pull off Shakespeare. And while Nathan L*ne makes a wonderful clown, because he is wonderful in anything, shrill American accents do nothing for already difficult to understand Shakespearean English. Some of the cast was guilty of rushing the dialogue and at times I had to wonder if they had a clue what they were saying. (S*lverstone was particularly bad in this regard. She was fun in Clueless, but should never be allowed to perform Shakespeare.)

And then there was the singing and dancing. Ye gods, it was bad. The lone exception: D*nzel W*shington has a pleasant voice and is a graceful dancer. I would venture to guess that he has taken lessons at some point. But the other men . . . were no Fred Astaires (even as singers, and Fred Astaire was not exactly the world's finest voice). As for the women (*shudder*) I cringed every time they opened their mouths--except, of course, for Geraldine McEwan, who was wonderful as always. The actress playing Rosaline wasn't completely awful.

The thing is, I love 1950s musicals. And even if I didn't, I could appreciate the technical mastery the actors showed in their singing and dancing. They worked at it, they took classes, being able to do it and well was part of their job. You didn't wince every time they tried to sing, or look away from the world's most wooden attempts at dancing. If Branagh* (the director) was trying for a spoof, he missed badly. If he was seriously trying to make a musical, he should fire his casting director. (I think he cast it himself.)

Eh. Apparently I really disliked it. Pity, because it's a great play. Twelfth Night (directed by Trevor Nunn) really was lovely, though. Where does Helena B-C get all that hair? Goodness. Also, Viola and Sebastian looked eerily alike--amazing.

Today I think I'll queue up Henry V, and either MacBeth or As You Like It, depending on my mood. I'm a little worried that my knitting will get very, very tight if I knit while watching people mutter about not being able to get their hands clean.

*For the record, on Branagh: I loved Much Ado and could watch it a million times, I think Henry V is generally successful, and I think he should be made to suffer for Hamlet. No play deserves that sort of mistreatment, but especially  not Hamlet. Yes, I even prefer Mel Gibson's version. Olivier is still the best (not perfect, but the best performance).