Still Summer

After the Olympics are over, self can catch up on her sleep. But last night was another night of staying up until 2 a.m. and then waking (with noise of Gracie’s piteous whining) at 6:30 a.m.

This morning, hubby left for work two hours later than he normally does, Read the rest of this entry »

The Latest III

Self has spoken to Ying. She sounds so much herself that it is a little hard to take in when she says she is “very dizzy” and running a fever. Still, we are able to conduct a normal conversation, about books and Dearest Mum and what-not, and in the end it’s self who has to cut the call short, for fear she’s overtaxing her sister-in-law.

Then, self finds herself filled with anxiety that she has not heard back from monastery (even though website through which she made the reservation says to give them “three days”, and it’s only been one day). Oops, there she goes again, dialing poor Sean’s cell. And Sean is by himself “in a supermarket,” no son in sight, so OK, so sorry . . .

And then self gets e-mail from her brother-in-law in New York: seems some of Dearest Mum’s unpaid bills are piling up and brother-in-law doesn’t know what to do.

And then, and then . . .

But what more is there? Self simply has to screw her brain on tight and hope for the best. Perhaps self should just go and see a movie, to take her mind off things. While self was tooling around Mendocino, she heard a local commentator give a really enthusiastic review of “Mamma Mia!” If only self were still into ABBA. And Netflix just sent over “Stop-Loss,” so if self doesn’t feel like paying for downtown parking she can just stay home and watch Ryan Phillipe and Abbie Cornish play out their (at the time presumably subliminal) desires.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

Rites of Summer II: Another Movie

It being the height of summer, the inside of the house feels like an oven. Partly to escape the intolerable heat, self and hubby found themselves downtown at around 12:30. Specifically: at the movie theatre, looking over the offerings. And these were the choices:

Hellboy II: seen
Wall-E: seen
Wanted: seen
The Dark Knight: seen
Hancock: naaah

Which left only two movies for serious consideration: “Mongol” and “The X Files: I Want to Believe.”

Guess which one we saw?

Right.

Self informed hubby that she had heard there was going to be a real shocker of a sex scene between Mulder and Scully (finally!). Both stars were interviewed on some Hollywood gossip show and left many tantalizing clues. So, self’s experience of the entire movie went something like this:

    Mulder and Scully meet! Sex scene sure to follow. (Nope)
    Mulder and Scully exchange smouldering glances! Sex scene sure to follow. (Nope)

Finally, at the penultimate scene, the two exchanged a (somewhat) chaste kiss. Self was sure sex scene was finally going to happen! But no! Cut to Scully in hospital scrubs, about to perform an operation. Then, the credits roll.

Oh, self now remembers there was a scene of Mulder and Scully in bed together, but as both were encased in what looked like head-to-toe matching black sleeping bags, it was impossible to tell whether they had been engaging in carnal activity. Of course, after Mulder stood up, he did reveal a naked back. So, what’s up with the sleeping bags? What???

Anyhoo, self absolutely creeped out by the movie. More creeped out even than she had been by “The Grudge.” But she liked it! Exceedingly! And thinks Scully’s hair in this movie is a big improvement over the style she wore through all eight seasons of the TV show. Plus, she looks like she has a really good bod. And she and Mulder still have really good chemistry. And thank God the movie didn’t go for CGI or other technological razmatazz. In fact, it was creepy in the way that the TV show was creepy. So, self gives it four stars.

Afterwards, self and hubby emereged into the bright glare of mid-afternoon and decided to check out the Marble Creamery, next to the theatre. And what did we find? Exceedingly interesting flavors of ice cream (including self’s favorite: coconut), but a small scoop was $4.09. Highway robbery! We exited without purchasing anything.

Then, we walked to Peet’s on Broadway and self ordered a lime iced tea while hubby had his usual iced mocha. And then we went home.

Hubby dragged an old mattress from the garage to the backyard. There self and hubby sat, sunning themselves and reading. Hubby decided to (finally) plant the gingko tree we had bought from the Foothill plant sale, two months ago.

Then, inside for dinner (pork adobo) and TV. Self watched “Jericho” and was delighted to discover that the cast had been beefed up with additions of Lou Diamond Phillips and Sam Neill. Too bad this show is getting canceled! Then, self saw preview of upcoming final season of “Battlestar Galactica.” Yay!

And now self has to return to reading workshop manuscripts for Mendocino Coast Writers Conference. Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

Third Monday in July 08 Status Report

It rained. Self saw the almost transparent sheets of rain from the window in her living room. She waited, just to be sure. Until she saw the sidewalk begin to grow a darker grey. The heater kicked in, for the first time in months.

She stood at the kitchen counter, slicing broiled pork into slivers. Then she mixed in some Hoisin sauce. She’ll use the pork slices to make fried rice for dinner tonight.

Last night, she read portions of the piece she is writing to hubby, while he watched Mike Nichols’ “The Graduate.” Now and then he would guffaw, and self would think it was because of something she had read. But on screen, Dustin Hoffman was engaging in risible exchange with Anne Bancroft. It did lend a certain je-ne-se-quois to self’s words, to hear it in counterpoint to such dialogue as “Thank you for giving me a ride home, Benjamin.” Self knows that her new piece is good, because hubby was trying so hard not to show how much he liked it.

There is no word, of course, from Tel Aviv. Self promised she would not call Ying for at least a week. There were seven messages yesterday on self’s answering machine, all from the same aunt. And, this morning, two e-mails from son: he was in Toledo for his birthday, yesterday. He seems to have fallen in love with the city. His camera ran out of battery and all he could do was describe the city in words: the churches, the bridges.

Self wrote back: “If you love Toledo, now you will understand El Greco.”

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

Oh My God, It’s Happening Again

Insomnia, that is.

So here it is, past midnight, and self is wondering: what activity can she be sure will put her to sleep? After a day spent strenuously walking hither and thither, not to mention exercising her fingers over the keyboard of long-suffering laptop, you’d think she’d be wiped out by now.

But, no –

Her brain is firing on all pistons, while she stares at Amy Poehler on “Saturday Night Live” and wonders why her face is looking so remarkably younger these days. But, let’s not go there.

Instead, self intends to quote from a recent issue of Vanity Fair (August 2008), the one with all those nubile teens on the cover, including Blake “Gossip Girl” Lively and Amanda “Mama Mia!” Seyfried (”If they have another one of these tween-sy covers, I’m going to stop my subscription,” self tells hubby, only half-jokingly). Here it is, dear blog readers:

The Quote That Made Self Unexpectedly Burst Out Laughing, But Left Her Scratching Her Head Afterwards:

The scathingly funny Hamlet 2, like Ed Wood before it, dramatizes the existential plight of those unfortunate souls who, possessing all the passion and commitment it takes to be an artist, lack only talent.

    — Bruce Handy, in a review of the upcoming movie, Hamlet 2

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

Self Watches “Hellboy II,” Makes Like Rachael Ray!

Well, it is very hot again, very. And when self says it is very hot, you can just take her word for it, since this is a woman who loves heat. Who in fact blossoms in the heat (and whose imagination, this summer, has been assuming all kinds of strange and unusual shapes — perhaps because of the fires?).

But, in spite of the fact that hubby dragged self up and down all the booths of the Los Altos Art & Wine Festival, and escaped without buying her one single thing (even though self’s birthday is tomorrow), self is still in a very good mood.

Maybe that’s because we made it to a 1 p.m. showing of “Hellboy II.” And before self gets to the real purpose of this post, please allow self to list all the things she loved about the movie:

  • Selma Blair’s hair!
  • An old lady who eats kittens!
  • A troll market under the Brooklyn Bridge!
  • A humon-gous gun named “Big Baby!”
  • A scene in which Hellboy engages in apocalyptic battle with gigantic creature known as an “Elemental,” while holding baby wrapped in a blue blanket aloft with his tail!
  • An assassin/prince with long white hair who looks like John Malkovich on steroids!
  • Our hero crooning Barry Manilow!

And, now that self has gotten all of that off her chest, she will now turn to sharing how she concocted a little salad that has turned out to be quite a big hit with hubby, that she has in fact been preparing every day the past week, with spectacular results (thumbs-up from hubby, all the time!).

See, one eveing self discovered that she had run out of fresh greens. And she hit on the idea of chopping up some fresh tomatoes (from Costco, which purportedly triple-checks all their tomatoes for salmonella) and onions, drizzling olive oil (from Trader Joe’s) over the pieces, then sprinkling coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper over that, and finally topping off with some freshly picked Greek oregano from her garden. Voila!

Next day, self tried the same thing with green beans and grape tomatoes (again from Costco) and onions. This time, she added a drizzle of fresh lemon juice. Heaven!

Then, this morning, she tried it again, substituting green pepper for the green beans and red onion for the white onion. And, voila!

Oyyy, self is so happy when she can confess to a little culinary prowess.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

Eureka!

At last, self has found it! The New Yorker review of “Wanted” !

The review was written by Anthony Lane. Following, some choice quotes (The “him” in the first quote refers to the director, guy with the gorgeous name of Timur Bekmambetov):

    “Wanted” begins with a flashback, but not for him the gentle glance over the past month, or the childhood cameo; instead, up comes the dauntless title “1000 years ago.” One day, presumably a wet Thursday, a secret society of medieval weavers suddenly decided to create an even more secret society of global assassins. This was done, apparently, to maintain “the balance of the world,” a principle reiterated later in the film, but the episode leaves you panting to know more. Why weavers? Why not potters, or pastry cooks? Until now, I never made the connection between haberdashery and homicide . . .

* * *

    Bekmambetov was born in the Soviet Union, and this is his first film set in the United States, but “Wanted” never feels solidly American, and not just because James McAvoy keeps slipping into his native Scottish. He plays Wesley Gibson, who loathes his existence. Given that it involves both accountancy and cuckoldry, he may have a point, and the twitchy Gibson is the heir of a hundred other movie mice, headed by Jack Lemmon in “The Apartment.”

* * *

    You don’t tell Angelina Jolie to go away; she tells you. In “Wanted,” she plays Fox, one of the fraternity of killers, who informs Gibson that his father was the doyen of the group, that he was wiped out only the day before by a rogue operator, and that he, weedy Wesley, must learn the ropes and avenge this foul, unnatural crime. Hamlet was under the same obligation, but, lacking access to high-powered rifles and exploding rats, he took longer to finish the job.

* * *

Self will leave the rest of the review to dear blog reader’s imagination. Stay tuned.

Self and Hubby See “Wanted!”

Angelina rocks! James McAvoy rocks!

Self never laughed so much in a movie, not since watching — hmm, the first Austin Powers movie? “There’s Something About Mary”?  Jason Stathan in “The Transporter”?

Truly, this was an action movie to end all action movies.

If you’ve ever longed to see a woman who looks like Angelina Jolie suddenly materialize at your elbow while you’re standing in line at Long’s and waiting for a prescription to be filled, this movie is for you.

If you’ve ever longed to see Angelina on top of a train do a graceful backward bend (at the knees) to avoid having head chopped off while train enters a tunnel, this movie is for you.

If you’ve ever wanted to see James McAvoy’s gorgeous mug get beaten to a bloody pulp by a beefy Spaniard/Transylvanian uttering outrageous insults like “Pussy,” then this movie is for you.

If you’ve ever wanted to know what it feels like to be submerged in a vat of wax, then this movie is for you.

If you’ve ever wanted to see Morgan Freeman get — Nay, self will with-hold information about what lies in store for Morgan Freeman, just for the moment.

If you’ve ever wanted to see a movie directed by a guy whose first name is “Timur,” then this movie is for you.

Self cannot possibly encapsulate in one short review all the delights of this movie, which include ricocheting bullets, gazillions of (bomb-carrying) rats, and a brief back-nude shot of Angelina showing that she has thirty-plus tattoos on backside alone, and that’s not even counting the ones which (self learned from reading Vanity Fair ) represent the birth place coordinates of all her large brood.

When self left the theatre, she decided that she would never be able to see another action movie, not for at least another six months, not unless they can promise delights as many and as varied as all of the above.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

Self Feeling Pretty Good

And here’s why:

  • Self just had a massage. Her neck now feels wonderfully limber and loose. Fernando put two strong knuckles on either side of her (lymph glands?) and pressed until self saw stars. The pain, however, was well worth it, for now self can actually rotate her head and see what’s behind her. Thank you, Fernando!
  • Self just finished reading an article about Angelina Jolie, in which her press or publicity spokesperson announced that she would not be giving birth for a couple more weeks. And self is so extremely happy that she is not Angelina Jolie, pregnant with twins in July, and not due “for a couple of weeks” yet.
  • There were no rejection letters in the mail today. And no bills, either!
  • Menlo Park Connoisseur’s Marketplace is July 19 and 20, self just discovered.
  • Wednesday concerts in Stafford Park (just two blocks from self’s humble abode) start today, with the Zydeco Flames. Self thinks she’ll wander over at around 6 p.m. to stare at all the babies and have a hot dog from the Optimist’s stand.
  • Self’s most pressing issue of the moment is whether to see “Wanted” or “Mongol.” Every time she sees the “Wanted” preview, she can’t help but snort derisively (Angelina doing her femme-fatale-with-a-gun shtick again, self is sooo over that!), but yesterday she read an absolutely fantastic review of it in The New Yorker. If self can locate that issue, she’ll quote from it. (Self seems to be mis-laying things quite a lot lately! Exhibit A: She lost her gigantic Guess green shades that make her look like a bumblebee. She had them four years. Perhaps this is a sign from heaven that self needs a new look.)

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

Son Is Home — Tra-La Tra-La Tra-Laaaa!

Son is home, and this is what we have done today:

Watched “The Incredible Hulk” — and Edward Norton is just incredible. So is Liv Tyler. So is William Hurt. And Tim Roth! No one makes malevolence so magnetic (other than John Malkovich, that is).

And self was so glad that son is still OK with watching movies with her! And that she got to watch the preview of “Hellboy II” again! And got her first glimpse of The X-Files movie (opening next month), “I Want to Believe”!

And now hubby is exerting himself to the max, doing the backyard barbecue thing with six juicy rib-eyes (which self purchased from Costco just this morning). And it seems like forever since we’ve had a backyard barbecue. We kept urging son to invite his Sacred Heart friends, but he declined, saying he’d meet them all somewhere after dinner.

Meanwhile, self went all the way to Daly City to fetch Dearest Mum. And self has already ferried her to Marshall’s and Target, where she returned some of her purchases yesterday.

To tell the truth, self would be perfectly happy, except that Dearest Mum, ensconced on couch the last two hours, seems to be getting bored with the CW. She was engrossed with “Gossip Girl,” but then the episode ended and now she seems (exceedingly) bored with “One Tree Hill” and keeps asking self for the phone numbers of this and that Tita. Which makes self exceedingly nervous, for when Dearest Mum gets bored, there is hell to pay.

* * * *

And then (in self’s life, there is always an “and then”), at the tail end of this very long and emotionally intense day, son delivers this zinger: “Mom, I am thinking of joining the Peace Corps.”

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

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