Marcheline's Movie Review: WANTED

Let me just start with the comment that Angelina, who played "Fox", was amazing and sexy and tough and beautiful and kicked ass and drove fast and kissed hard and shot really cool guns. That goes without saying, but it's so much fun to say it that I went ahead. Sue me.

The rest of the movie was as refreshing as it is possible for an action movie based on a group of assassins to be.

Refreshing, you say? Refreshing? Yes - I say refreshing. And this is why:

1. The main character, Wesley Gibson (played by "Atonement" star James McAvoy) is attractive, but not overly so. He is not physically imposing, overly muscular, or even remotely macho. He's pretty much an average joe who's scared of everything. This is refreshing because it's too easy and too common to make guys like The Rock into a central figure for an action flick.

2. The film makers were not so wrapped up in their guns and special effects that they neglected the fact that audiences like to laugh. LAUGH OUT LOUD. This movie is freakin' FUNNY in parts! The audience burst out in spontaneous guffaws during several scenes, laughter providing a perfect outlet for the residual tension built up in the more violent parts of the movie.

3. The main character gets to soliloquize a bit at the beginning and end of the flick, which has always been one of my favorite movie gimmicks. From Original Sin to Ferris Bueller's Day Off, some of my most adored movies of all time involve bits where the main character speaks directly to me - as if I was the only one in the theater. Hell, as long as we're fantasizing, let's take it all the way!

4. The attention to detail, from the artistic etching on the various ammunition (who knew bullets could be beautiful?) to the artistic etching on Angelina's arms, was exquisite. The sometimes obvious, sometimes sneaky use of subliminal signage behind pivotal camera shots for the quick of eye. The use of hang-time footage in order to let the audience drink in a character's facial expression before the action explodes again. These are the kinds of things that make all the difference between a movie full of blurred camera shots and jarring noise and a really enjoyable action film.

And now, to be fair, just a couple small things that I was not thrilled about:

1. All of the previews that I saw for this movie showed a scene in which Wesley says to Fox "So, what, now we're going to bond?" and Fox says "Would you like to?", and then they kiss an amazingly hot, steamy kiss. This scene was not in the movie. It's a little disappointing to be waiting for a scene that never comes.

2. James McAvoy has one of the loveliest Scottish accents you will ever hear, and they made him cover it up and talk like a Yank for this movie. WHY?!?!?! There is absolutely no plot-driven reason why this character could not have had a Scottish accent. I resent being deprived of 110 minutes of that lovely sound for naught. I mean, Jeez - they let Gerard Butler keep his brazen burr in "300" even though he was playing a Spartan! It was lovely. But I digress.

Basically, this was exactly the summer-fun, perfect escape, high-action, heavy-adrenaline rush that I hoped it would be. I highly recommend it.

P.S. The finale plot twist is a kick.

Marcheline's latest obsession: Enchanted Doll

I was first introduced to this website by blogfriend Joan Perry, author of Walk This Way. She teased me into checking it out by mentioning that there was a doll with tattoos featured on it. So, of course, I went. I tip my virtual top hat to JP for giving me as yet another blog topic - she is often my inspiration.



Let me say here that I am not, and never have been, a doll aficionado. Even as a young girl, the only dolls I really wanted to play with were the action figures that could ride a motorcycle, ride a horse, or be hung from things that zipped across the room on strings. A doll's worth was only as high as its action-factor and pose-ability.



The childlike dolls that people collect and line up on shelves in rooms with pink, rose-crowded curtains and chintz bedcovers have always given me the creeps, big time. The whole doll culture is one that has happily passed me by. As a woman who has chosen not to have children, the whole "adults with baby dolls" scenario strikes me as particularly substitutive and bizarrely sad.



That being said, I was not at all prepared for my reaction to the... well, dolls - on this website. Their faces are haunting. Their eyes seem to speak. The fact that they are almost overly anatomically correct only makes them seem more innocent. (And yes, there are male dolls as well.)


The fact that there has been no effort made to hide the jointed limbs harkens back to Sally (immediately below, shown stitching one of her legs back on) from Tim Burton's "Nightmare Before Christmas" - another of my all time favorites.



Perhaps it is because these dolls are representations of the flawed and wounded inner spirit of adults, rather than sugar-coated reproductions of impossibly perfect children, that I find myself drawn to them.



In each face, there is a youthful beauty - but also pain, questions, and unrequited longing. I find that I keep going back to the website again and again, just to look at them.



I keep being amazed at how the simple, wordless positioning of a human-like form can express such emotion. These dolls are the most beautiful study in body language that I have ever seen.



Marina Bychkova, the artist who created these lovely creatures, also hand-creates amazingly intricate beaded costumes, turning them into queens, pharaohs, and even Juliet. She uses real gemstones and precious metals, makes headpieces fit for royalty, and delicate heeled shoes and boots.


I can only dream of actually owning one of these unique and limited pieces of artwork, as the prices start near the $1K mark. I do not begrudge the price in the slightest, as the artist has taken the time to add a section to her website which shows step-by-step details of the painstaking, time-consuming process that is involved with the creation of each doll. I am just extremely glad that looking is free.

I've only scratched the surface with this post - if you want to see the real deal, click here.


P.S. (for those who know me better)

No, the obvious attraction factor has not passed me by...

Marcheline brings you a brief movie review: WALL-E

This is a great movie. However, it was completely misrepresented in the previews as a toddler-friendly movie. In the previews, they made it appear to be a technological remake of "E.T." - which it definitely is NOT.

Firstly, the premise of the movie is how politics, big business, and humanity in general is destroying our planet and turning us into computer-addicted slugs. Which it is. However, that is not something that will keep a toddler riveted for longer than it takes to throw a pacifier on the floor.

Secondly, the scenery switches between a) depressing piles of garbage on a backdrop of wasted landscape, and b) inexpressibly complex futuristic spaceship stuff. Again, not exactly Sesame Street.

Thirdly, there are extremely LOUD scenes featuring mind-blowing explosions, fireballs of death, and similar uber-destruction. If I saw anything like this on a huge screen in a dark room when I was three, I would have crapped my nappies and never slept again.

Fourthly, the small part of the plot dedicated to hooking the human emotional response was based on Wall-E's fascination with old movies. Something I relate to in a big way, but which will have no cultural relevance to anyone under the age of 40.

Basically, Bear and I loved this movie, but I got the feeling that the 200 five-year-olds in the audience were just counting the minutes until they could go get ice cream.

Welcome to my life

Just a few vignettes for you:

Bear and I decide to have a summer "movie marathon". Bear gets a bunch of Humphrey Bogart movies from the library and fixes a great summer dinner for our big kick-off.

We sit down to watch the first movie, and our television goes Exorcist on us. The volume goes up and down by itself (which it's been doing for a few weeks now) but then it starts changing channels on its own as well, making movie watching of any kind completely impossible.

We end up hunched in our office chairs up in the computer room, watching the movie on my computer screen and balancing our dinner plates on our kneecaps.

*******

Last night, Bear was in the bathroom getting ready for bed. Having already brushed my teeth and put my contact lenses away, I strolled into the darkened bedroom and flung myself down on the bed, face first. My left hand landed in something cold and clammy. One of the cats had yarked right in the middle of the bed, on the new sheets my mom just gave us.

*******

Just got a notice in the mail that my home insurance policy is being "non-renewed". Not cancelled, mind you. Oh, no-no-no, nothing like that. Just "non-renewed". That's like, what, insurance-speak for "we can still be friends"?

*******

Decided to surprise Bear with a date tonight. Stopped off at the movie theater on my way home from work and bought tickets for tonight's debut of "WALL-E" and we went to a nice little local Mexican restaurant before the show.

Just as the mariachi band stopped next to our table and began their third rendition of "Hoppy Bairrrthday To Joo", two waiters exited the kitchen carrying smoking fajita platters. I don't mean steaming, I mean smoking... as in, I couldn't see Bear's face for a minute or two.

The entire dining room filled with lung-searing fog, and then the fire alarm system went off. Piercing shrieks split the air at regular intervals for the next twenty minutes, while the mariachis played on, trying to drown it out. In a little while, firemen in full regalia began trooping through the front door, like a conga line trailing back to the kitchen, and I suggested that maybe they could dance while the mariachi band played. You know, just to round things out a bit.

If wishes were horses...

...Marcheline would be riding off into the sunset with Angelina Jolie's leather jacket. This jacket, worn by Angie in her new movie, "Wanted", is being auctioned off HERE. For charity, of course. Bidding has already reached over $5K.

Man, sometimes it really sucks to be po'.

Sunday stuff

Today we're having our downstairs tenants over for a mid-afternoon dinner to celebrate the guy-half's birthday, which is coming up this week. Since they just bought a super-duper-wowee grill (which is now chained to a tree by the fence surrounding our parking area, ha!) we decided to get him GrillMaster-type presents.

We got him a pair of chili-pepper chef's pants, and from the Jamaican section of the grocery store, we picked up a container of "Cock Flavoured Soup" and "Cock Flavoured Seasoning" and "Jerk Sauce", just to keep the laughs going at the party. The gifts are all being presented in a bona fide bakery box, complete with red and white string to tie it shut. Bear found an amazing b-day card that featured a grill-related joke, so the package is complete.

I'm making a huge batch of my spicy Greek chicken, which is now marinating in a delicious blend of olive oil, honey, ginger, soy, brown sugar, fresh chopped cilantro, lemon and lime juice, and hot red chili peppers (are you sensing a trend here?).

For a side dish, we're serving tabouleh salad with fresh mint from the garden and vine grown tomatoes. I have a lovely thick white ceramic bowl which I put in the freezer ahead of time, and serve the refrigerated tabouleh in it to keep it chilly while we eat. Yummy!

Bear is making one of his incredible Greek peasant salads, which is a cooling blend of chunked cucumber, green onions, tomatoes, olives, onions, and feta cheese. That will be topped with the grape-leaf wrapped dolmades, and sprinkled with olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

I also made a fresh batch of iced tea, with lemon mint from the garden, which is now steeping and cooling on top of the stove. I really should have done that last night, so that it would be cool already this morning, but I was much too busy watching the last season of the Sopranos on DVD last night to be bothered with things like iced tea.

The best part about this is that all of these things can be prepped ahead of time and chilled in the fridge. All that needs doing once they arrive is to put the chicken under the broiler. I've tried cooking the chicken on the grill, but the skin sticks to the metal bars and the chicken never cooks all the way through before the cilantro leaves get burnt... it always comes out much better under the broiler.

Well, enough blabbing - I'm off to prep the tabouleh! (I got up early and marinated the chicken already.)

Hope all of you have a great weekend!

Eight days and counting...

The last fifteen years

I have been "tagged" by Boxer Girl. Thankfully, this does not mean I'm sporting a black eye. It means I have to do a meme. This particular meme theme is: List ten things that you have learned about life in the past fifteen years that you would pass along to someone you hadn't seen in oh, say, fifteen years.

Here goes!

1.

There is no way in hell any of us are ever going to be
as gorgeous as Angelina Jolie, so get over it. Here Angie
weeps for me, the model who posed for that drawing.

2.

Even if they don't make you look like Angelina, tattoos
DO make you feel sexier. So if you want one, get one!


3.
Support our troops, but
don't dress like them.


4.
Always get your beauty rest. Angelina gets
at least twenty-one hours of sleep
every day. See? It works!

5.
BEWARE!
Dark red lipstick can cause
breast pain and neck malfunction.


6.
Looking for lost contact lenses sucks.
Avoid the agony - just wear glasses!


7.
Sometimes a well-placed hand
makes all the difference
in the world.


8.
EVERYBODY made stupid choices
when they were young.
Give yourself a break.


9.
Being a mother has more to do with
love than it does with
giving birth.


10.
Beauty is in the eye of the
behold-her.

Eleven days and counting...

Ski-DOOSHHHH!

In an attempt to ameliorate or soften or blur or blend or smooth the fact that this weekend is the first Father's Day without my dad, Bear has taken me out to do a bunch of fun stuff.

Not the least of which was going to see Kung Fu Panda!

Po

I am an avowed animated movie fan, granted, so I may have been easier to please than the average adult. However, I am quick to spot cheesy emotional manipulation, or the insertion of sing-along songs in lieu of good plot content, and often my connection to or mental immersion in these types of movies chimes in and out as I watch. Kung Fu Panda kept me steeped in the magic the entire time. As there were no all-cast musical numbers, the plot, character development, and humor had to be strong enough to keep me glued, whether laughing or crying - and it was!


An obvious attraction factor for me was knowing that Angelina Jolie did the voice of one of the characters in the movie. Turns out it was Tigress (who else!), a complicated yet kick-ass personality in....

THE FURIOUS FIVE:

Tigress


Monkey


Crane

Viper


Mantis


*****

Somewhat like Yoda in the Star Wars series was Shifu, the small red panda with large ears. He had great strength of character, and was made real to me by the glimpses shown of his inner doubts and fears regarding his ability to teach the bumbling panda bear that was chosen to be the great Dragon Warrior.




Teacher to Shifu was Oogway, a wise old turtle. Oogway instructed and inspired Shifu, who in turn instructed and inspired Po.




A very important part of any truly good movie is the Bad Guy. If the Bad Guy is ridiculous, or not bad enough, the movie kind of falls flat. In this the moviemakers did not fail. Tai Lung, the leopard, sent chills down my spine with his glowing yellow eyes and his devastating claws of destruction. Honestly, if I had little kids I'm not sure I'd bring them to this movie, as Tai Lung could give anyone bad dreams!



One of the best and funniest parts was a chopsticks duel between Po and Shifu, the grand prize being the last steamed dumpling in a bowl.


As far as the technical aspect, I have to say that I have never seen the artistry of perspective used in quite this way before. In the above picture, the bowls are sharper than the character, which is sharper than the trees beyond. There are motion shots where the "camera" is facing directly into the sky, and the viewer moves upward toward objects that are falling towards them. There are other shots where the viewer is at a great height, looking down. And then there are extremely fast moving action shots where the movie abruptly stops to a still frame, giving the viewer a complete second or two to take in exactly what's going on, before exploding back into lightspeed. All of these techniques give the audience the feeling of not only watching a movie, but being on a ride at an amusement park. Extremely enjoyable!

I would highly recommend this movie for anyone of any age who just wants to have fun and get lost in it for a couple of hours.

Thirteen days and counting

Last night

Yesterday was one of the most beautiful days that ever existed. The sun shone brightly all day but the air was cool and crisp, and a playful breeze riffled the tree leaves. When five-thirty came I busted out of the office like I'd been shot from a canon, and I couldn't wait to get home to Bear and start our weekend.

We had been tossing around the idea of catching a movie, but somehow paying a chunk of money to sit for two hours in the dark while focusing on something besides each other seemed a poor option.

Instead, we went to our favorite Korean restaurant. We sat for two hours enjoying a myriad of delicious flavors and smells, and each other's company. The restaurant owner spoke to Bear in English when we arrived (we were the only non-Asian folks in the place, a very good sign), and Bear replied in fluent Korean. As always, the man jumped a little and shook his head, smiling, and then they began to converse in Korean.

On the outside, Bear looks like the last person on earth who would open his mouth and have fluent, perfectly accented Korean come flowing out. But once he speaks and writes their language, Korean people warm up to him right away and are happy to bring out their family members to join the conversation.

I love when this happens. I don't speak word one of Korean, but I love the way it sounds. I love to see Bear breaking down cultural barriers and getting to practise his Korean with native speakers. I love the looks of surprise when people realize he hasn't just learned pat phrases, but can really speak the language, even down to their jokes and customs.

And I really love the food. I suppose that it's odd that I love Korean food so much - the tangy, surprising flavors, the subtle exotic ones, the in-your-face spices, the raw green vegetable savories. I was raised by a Southern Woman. Fried chicken, meat loaf, lasagna, and the like. My mom is a wonderful cook, and she was always trying new recipes. But Korean food is a completely different world of flavors, some of which are acquired tastes.

The picture above is not a photo of our actual dinner last night, but it's close enough to give you an idea of what our table looked like when we were served. In tiny white bowls were pickled radishes, dark green seaweed. a dollop of homemade potato salad, marinated broccoli florets, seasoned bean sprouts, cabbage pickled with hot red pepper, and tiny briny tentacles.

I loved it all, except the tentacles - but I tried them anyway, to be sure. I don't want to let any flavor go untried. If I don't like something, I don't eat more of it, but I believe it's wrong to make uninformed choices. The risk of missing something wonderful isn't worth taking.

My entree was a simmering plate of marinated pork slices with cooked kimchi (pickled cabbage leaves) in a rich, spicy orange sauce. The plate was decorated with four large slices of creamy, soft tofu which went perfectly with the dish, serving as a cool backdrop to the hot flavors.

I had asked for brown rice, which came served in a silver bowl with a fitted lid. When I uncovered the bowl, I was surprised to see that the rice was actually a deep purple color. It had been cooked with black beans, which had broken open and turned the rice the vivid color of ink. It was delicious!

Bear had a pork dish as well, which had a barbecue-like sauce which made the meat taste almost like bacon. He opted for white rice, and we both had barley tea. I also ordered a serving of their "red wine", which comes in a little tiny bottle shaped like a soccer ball (I don't know why). It tastes something like port - very heavy and sweet - and is served cold. Lovely!

We sat and ate at our leisure, talking and enjoying each other's company. We listened to the Korean patrons sitting at other tables, taking in the inflections of their speech and the cadence of their conversations. Two old men sat in a corner table, telling tales to each other and laughing.

One middle aged man brought his old mother to dinner, and she sat scowling at me most of the evening. It made me very glad that I honed my skill at eating with chopsticks. I would not have wanted to sit there eating with a fork in front of that particular lady.

At the end of the meal, every table gets a small plate of fruit. When I pulled the sections of orange away from the peel and popped them in my mouth one at a time, she picked up her orange slice, looked right at me, and gnawed the orange flesh right off the skin. Showing me how it's done. I smiled at her, but got no response, which made me smile more. There are no crabby old women like Korean crabby old women. I imagine the life she may have led, and think that she probably has the right to be crabby if she wants to.

Last night was wonderful. One of those beautiful times when Bear and I knew that we were at exactly the right place in the universe, made doubly perfect by the fact that we were there together.

How Marcheline stomped Big Brother

I wrote a BIG LONG email of complaint to the head of the bank (see previous post for details). She passed the complaint along to my branch manager. The branch manager sent me an email confirming my belief that this "rule" was a load of horse shit, saying that if my husband and I were at the bank together with our photo IDs in hand, depositing the check should not be a problem.

I printed out the email. Bear and I jumped in the car and headed down to the bank for Round 3. The teller brought the email to the manager on patrol, returned shortly, and DEPOSITED THE GADAM CHECK IN MY ACCOUNT.

I need a new pair of combat boots immediately. My old ones are covered with bank manager goo.

And here I thought this was a free country...

I was all excited when the government finally sent us our tax relief check. That lasted, oh, about a full five minutes - exactly the time it took us to drive to the bank and try to deposit the check.

See, my husband and I each have bank accounts at this bank. But the check was made out to both of us. So we went down there together, with ID in hand, and both of our signatures on the check, and tried to deposit the check in my account.

We were informed that in order to cash, deposit, or in any other way redeem this US of A government-issued check, we must have a JOINT account.

Um, excuse me?

Let me just see if I have this straight. In order to open a joint bank account, what are the requirements?

A) Both parties must be present,
B) Both parties must have valid photo ID, and (most importantly)
C) Both parties must WANT TO OPEN A FREAKIN' JOINT ACCOUNT

As you can tell, item C is somewhat in question here in the Marcheline/Bear camp. I, for one, resent being told what to do with my own damn money. I also resent being put through the wringer by some corporate assholes who are obviously getting some kickback benefit by racking up the number of accounts opened at their branch. Time is money, and tempus fugit and all that happy horse hockey, and I have now made two fruitless trips, using very expensive gas, to try and get my damn check deposited.

A friend of mine is a bank manager (several towns away, for a different bank than I use), and she's the one who told me that the reason this stupid rule is in place is the bank's benefit from chalking up extra accounts being opened. I went to the bank this afternoon with that little thought tucked securely in the forefront of my mind.

When the teller at the inside counter (we had already tried the drive through tellers a few days ago) gave us the same line of bullshit, I said this:

"I realize that you are just doing your job, and that this is not personal. I know that you have no control over the rules that your manager is enforcing, and I also know that the reason they are making this rule up is so that your bank can get credits for opening more accounts. (Here, her eyebrows went up slightly.)

Keeping that in mind, I would just like to let you know that my husband and I are going to go to another bank and open a joint account. Then we are going to take the money out and close the account, and come back here and deposit it into my account. (Here, the eyebrows went all the way up.)"

And that's exactly what we're going to do. Right after I write a letter that will singe the chest hair off of the tight-ass women who run my bank.

I deserve a medal.

One of the more outstanding perks of my job is receiving emails from the higher-ups pointing out each and every small mistake or perceived failure on the part of anyone who works in the office. Often these accusatory missives are addressed to the entire office, so that no one will miss out on rejoicing in the shortcomings of someone else, and to ensure the sinner a maximum of public shame.

I received one such email this morning from the female boss who hates my gizzard, telling me that she had "found it necessary to completely revise a letter" that I had drafted to a client.

This same female boss is the one who, just yesterday, announced to the entire staff during a meeting that everyone, including herself, turns their work over to another staff member for proofreading before it goes out to a client, because no one is beyond making errors and "we must all make every effort to ensure that nothing but a top-notch product goes out to our clients".

As the initial letter I had drafted was very brief and had already been reviewed (and given the go-ahead) by my supervisor, I was curious as to what changes she had made. She had attached her revised letter to the email, and so I opened it up.

These changes she was being so superior about were basically just additional information that she obtained after I drafted the letter. Information I had no access to, as it came from a paid source that only she has authorization to sign on for. Nothing that she wrote remotely pointed to a failure on my part or a shirking of my duties to turn out a good work product.

I read through the letter, and stopped short when I reached the second to last line. It read, "The court case was file in Lexington in November." File? The court case was file? Hmmmm.... could it be that Ms. Perfecto of the Universe DIDN'T GET SOMEONE ELSE TO PROOFREAD HER WORK? Could it be that the horrific four-foot long fake fingernails painted in fuschia with day-glo orange stripes got in the way of TYPING CORRECTLY?!? Hmmmm?

I gnashed my teeth, writhed, broke out in a sweat, typed several versions of a reply email (which swung in tone from biting sarcasm to cool, reserved self-satisfaction), and then...

I hit "delete".

This is why I deserve a medal.

Signs of the times

Anyone who drives is aware of the rising gas prices. Anyone who watches television or listens to the radio is aware of the housing slump. These things in and of themselves are scary enough, but I haven't heard a peep from anyone about the rest of it...

In the last few months, my mortgage has gone up TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS A MONTH because the local taxes have suddenly skyrocketed to the point that my escrow was no longer cutting it.

I just got a notification that ONE of my SIX monthly utility bills (we are paying gas and electric bills for three families, thus six bills) is going up FIFTY DOLLARS A MONTH because we are on the balanced billing program and the estimated energy costs for the next six months have gone way up...

This, plus the gas prices, means my monthly bills have increased over three hundred dollars. And guess how much our household income has gone up? That's right, not one cent.

Honestly, I'm past the point of being angry, shaking my fist at the sky, and chatting about it around the water cooler.

I'm scared.

I can't stop driving to work to save money on gas, I can't cancel hot water and electricity for my tenants, and I can't raise the rents because I have a lease signed with one tenant, and the other is a single mom, and I'm basically charging about as much as I can hope to get already for antique apartments that have no modern conveniences such as washers, dryers, or dishwashers.

If one more shovelful of shit hits this wheelbarrow, I don't know if we can keep the thing upright.

Twenty-one days and counting....

Weekend HERE I COME!!!!!

Our newest tenants have invited us over for Friday night dinner, and this is the wine I bought to bring over. It not only expresses my devil-may-care willingness to try wines based solely on the quirkiness of the label, but also pretty much sums up how I feel about the fact that for the next few days I don't have to do anything I don't want to.

WOOP WOOP!

Brezny has some good ideas....

SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): "Take time to stop and smell the flowers," says an old homily. Albert Hoffman, the Swiss scientist who discovered LSD and lived to age 102, had a different approach. "Take the time to stop and be the flowers," he said. That's my advice to you, Sagittarius. Don't just set aside a few stolen moments to sniff the snapdragons, taste the rain, chase the wind, watch the hummingbirds, and listen to a friend. Use your imagination to actually BE the snapdragons and rain and wind and hummingbirds and friend. It's time to not just behold the Other, but to become the Other.

Behold: The Other!

Back home

Spent the weekend down south visiting my sister. We had a nice time - just long enough to enjoy each other's company, just short enough to forestall the inevitable butting of heads. I took these pictures in her bathroom:




(Any photographs taken in my own bathroom would more resemble a crime scene than a botanical garden.)

Was surprised not to have any major airport dramas this trip, although Bear and I were nearly waylaid on the drive to the airport by a woman who blew her horn at us and informed us that there was smoke coming out the bottom of our vehicle. She did this by pantomiming someone smoking a cigarette and then pointing energetically at our tires. At first I thought she was asking if I had any grey poupon smokes on me, but then I realized she was playing charades. First word, sounds like....

Risking life and limb, we pulled off the highway to inspect, and found no smoke, no tire problems, no undercarriage fire, nothing. Go figure.

My flight home was delayed a bit, and once we got airborne we were diverted around some bad weather between NC and NY. However, the most I can really say about that last flight is this:

You haven't really lived until you've spent two hours with your right arm submerged in the back fat of a black lady in a leopard print spandex shirt. Bless her dumpling heart, she asked for a seat belt extension, and when she buckled it, the buckle was closer to the seats in front of us than my kneecaps were. Seriously, though.

I just opened my book and tried to act as though having my personal space invaded by the consequences of another person's Twinkie overload was an everyday thing. I got a crick in my neck from trying to hold my elbow and arm away from the expanding Lake-O-Lycra. I shouldn't have bothered, really. There was no escape.

I was going to describe what it was like when we hit turbulence, but honestly I think you're probably way ahead of me, aren't you?

In any case, tonight - in honor of my coming home (how sweet!), Bear cooked me a fabulous dinner! Singapore chicken and rice, wrapped in cabbage leaves and tied with green onions! No, really, he did! See?

TASTY!!!
(and the dinner wasn't bad, either - ha!)