verbatim

All's Fair

The Lancaster Fair: What can I say that I haven't said before? There was a major difference this year, however: Jerry and Barbara didn't join us! Jerry is having a knee replacement at the end of September and is in too much pain these days to even consider a day of walking around. This was of course a downer, but we managed to have fun anyhow, winning prizes from carnies, going on rides*, petting animals, losing many quarters to those hypnotizing slider machines, and eating junk food.

Then we came home and ate wonderful ribs and steak tips from that gas station in Lincoln. Really. Up here, you drive over to the Citgo on Route 3 and get meat from Wayne there in the back. And the flavor? Out. Of. This. World.

*Neither Andy nor I enjoy rides. When we go somewhere that has rides our kids want to go on, we divvy up the dreaded chore: I do fast rides (like the Banzai Pipeline on Friday) and Andy does spinny rides (like the Tornado at the fair today). Ugh.

Relaxing in the North Woods

Yesterday we visited the Whale's Tale Water Park for the fourth year in a row—once again with free passes from some friends up here. I work hard to put all skeevy thoughts out of my head and just enjoy myself at these kinds of places, but I feel like I can practically see the bacteria. But in truth, it's always a fun day. Pete convinced me to go on the Banzai Pipeline, which was by far the scariest ride I've ever been on, wet or dry. Pete's screams were drowned out only by my own. (See promotional video here.)

We awoke this morning to a forecast calling for cloudy skies and possible showers this afternoon, with sunny weather on deck for tomorrow, so we decided to hold off on going to the fair. This morning Andy took Pete and Julie canoeing at Echo Lake while Steph and I checked out the Garnet Hill outlet (but alas, we came home empty-handed).

After lunch we had a bocce tournament, and I won! Bocce is a great game for kids—and for spazzy moms—because you don't have to be big or strong or fast or even terribly coordinated. We got eaten alive by them big back-woods 'skeeters, though.

Then we headed to Chutters for our usual penny-candy pigout session. Here's Andy on the ride home:

Friday iPod Random Ten

1. Worlds Away - The BoDeans
2. I Know You Know - Lyle Lovett
3. Slippery People - Talking Heads
4. Turn Around - Nanci Griffith
5. St. Judy's Comet - Paul Simon
6. I'm on Fire - Johnny Cash
7. Son of a Preacher Man - Dusty Springfield
8. Brand New Cadillac - The Clash
9. Killin' the Blues - Chris Smither
10. Salina - The Avett Brothers

Friday Fill-Ins

1. When I'm sick I'm sad and sleepy.

2. When I take a walk, I think about everything I have to do when I get home (or wherever I'm heading).

3. Money can't buy happiness but it can go a long way toward making one feel in control of one's life.

4. Cotton makes me comfortable and leather makes me sweaty.

5. The strangest person/character I've had lewd thoughts about was Martin Kratt. Not that he's so strange, just that I discovered him on a kids' show for heaven's sake!

6. My favorite color these days is green because my favorite color has always been green.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I’m looking forward to a good night's sleep (unlike last night), tomorrow my plans include going to the fair if the weather is nice, and Sunday, I want to have one last breakfast at Polly's Pancake Parlor before they close for the winter!

Summer's Last Blast

Things I did today:
1. Receive cookbook manuscript (via UPS) back from author just before leaving for extra-long long weekend in New Hampshire. Reader, I brought it with me. Sigh.
2. Receive French project (via email and FTP server) that I was promised on July 30, when I had all the time in the world. Now? Not so much.
3. Mutter under my breath that we still haven't received Steph's middle school packet containing her "team" list. Is she with even one friend? Dunno.
4. Answer 9,486,331 questions about Steph's cell phone. Occasionally say "I don't know" or "No" just to stop having to talk about it.
5. Agree to take Steph to the Aeropostale outlet for back-to-school clothes. Curse the Aeropostale designers who assume that all young women are 5'6" and 110 lbs. Find several cute tops that look nice on her anyhow. Get thanked with real feeling.
6. Try not to think about trip to scuzzy water park tomorrow.
7. Play 6,392 games of Tetris and Solitaire on iPhone. I don't have a problem; I could stop any time I want!

Phone Home

I really and truly believed that I was not going to cave in and get Steph a cell phone for middle school. She really doesn't need one—even though she'll be taking a bus, if she misses it, she can just go to the office to call me. Same if she decides to stay after school for some reason. I mean, there didn't used to be cell phones and we all managed pretty well, didn't we?

So it's not because we felt she needed one that we capitulated. Sure, there are a few times when I can think of a practical use: She wants to go home with a new friend after school; or she wants to let me know that she's not staying late as planned, so can I please leave the door open. But it turned out that all her friends were getting them. Really. It was like the "American Idol" thing where she would be the only one on the outside looking in. I know that lots of parents pride themselves on having kids who are the first to get or try every new thing, but that ain't me. If anything, I steer clear of whatever "everyone else" has or does. But a friend told Andy that she hadn't gotten one for her son when he started middle school last year; then at the first big event when all the sixth-graders were plugging each other's numbers into their phones, he was left out, and her heart broke. That hit home for us.

So today we went to the AT&T store (still hating AT&T but loving our iPhones, so it's the only game in town for us) and let her choose a shiny pink phone. We gave her a long speech on how it's not for chit-chatting all day and texting her friends while they're sitting 10 feet away. Shyeah. She said it was one of the best days of her life.

Wiki Wednesday

Time to learn something!

1. Go to Wikipedia.
2. Click on "Random article" in the left-hand sidebar box.
3. Post it!

I've been mooning over this entry for a while:

Aristarchus is a prominent lunar impact crater that lies in the northwest part of the Moon's near side. It is considered the brightest of the large formations on the lunar surface, with an albedo nearly double that of most lunar features. The feature is bright enough to be visible to the naked eye, and is dazzling in a large telescope. It is also readily identified when most of the lunar surface is illuminated by earthshine.

The crater is located at the southeastern edge of the Aristarchus plateau, an elevated area that contains a number of volcanic features, such as sinuous rilles. This area is also noted for the large number of reported transient lunar phenomena, as well as recent emissions of radon gas as measured by the Lunar Prospector spacecraft.

Aristarchus was originally named after the Greek astronomer Aristarchus of Samos by the Italian map maker Giovanni Riccioli. His work Almagestum novum ("New Almagest"), published in 1651, gave the spot-shaped telescopic features (later called craters) eponyms of noted astronomers and philosophers. Although it was already widely adopted, the name didn't become an official international standard until a vote by the IAU General Assembly in 1935.

This kind of thing makes me positively loony.

Zoology

Today we reversed direction and headed south to the Roger Williams Park Zoo in Providence. As long-time verbatim readers know, zoos depress the hell out of me, but at the same time I do enjoy seeing all the animals. I just feel so bad when I see them out of their natural habitat—and, in particular, out of their natural climate. Why should a giraffe have to deal with snow, or a polar bear with 95° weather? But we went anyhow. As far as zoos go, this one is a pretty happy place.

Every year we keep hoping they will be done rebuilding the polar bear habitat. They used to have a big swimming tank, and you could go around to the back and watch them swim up against a window, just inches from your face. Truly awe-inspiring. But it's been under construction for a few years now.

On top of that, the elephants were off-exhibit today while they enhance the elephant–giraffe "pavilion." And, the final kicker: The cheetah died! (The kids asked me how the cheetah died. To Steph I said, "Her kids nagged her to death"; to Pete I said, "Her kids wouldn't stop whining in the gift shop, so she killed herself"; to Julie I said, "She spent all her money on junk for her kids and had nothing left for food, so she starved to death." Yes, it was the end of a long, hot day.) I always felt especially bad for the cheetah anyhow; all a cheetah wants to do is run, and of course that's the last thing a cheetah can do in a zoo.

But we had a nice day! We really enjoyed the gibbons, seals, flamingos, giraffes, anteater, and camels. And frozen lemonade.

I'd Rather Not

In tonight's episode of "Would You Rather":

Steph: "Would you rather be blind and deaf or lose both legs?"
We all chose lose both legs.

Me: "Would you rather be blind or lose both legs?"
I still chose lose both legs, but Andy chose blind.

Julie clearly still doesn't get it, as her question was "Would you rather die or faint?"
We all chose faint.

Beach; Lost & Found

Today we headed up to Good Harbor for what will probably be the last beach day of the summer. As you know, I always forget to pack something; today it was the sand pails and shovels. Oh, and the sweatshirts. It was windy up there! But sunny and gorgeous.

Speaking of forgetfulness, here's this year's Lost at Camp list:

Steph:
a variety of socks (yes, again)

Pete:
flip-flops
goggles (found!)
baseball hat (found!)
Camelback water bottle (found!)

Julie:
beloved Paddington the Bear eyeglass case we've had since she first got glasses

Feeling As Old As McCain*

*Ha ha, not really. No one's that old.

So, first I have this shoulder thing. It's not as bad as it used to be, but it's still not nothing. Ow to the first.

Next, this tailbone thing. I had x-rays done last week, and they turned up negative. That's kind of a good news/bad news thing. "Nothing's wrong with you!" Great, so why am I in such pain? When I've been sitting for a while and then stand up, I have a split-second when I feel as though someone has shot me in the coccyx. Then it's gone, completely gone. So my choices seem to be either "Never sit down" or "Never stand up." I'll get back to you on this. Ow to the second.

Finally, yesterday we took the kids bowling. Yes, it was the most exquisite day of the summer, but Julie had been dying to go, and we knew we could go to the pool afterward. Andy is always surprised when he sees me bowl, because I'm normally a total spaz, but I'm a decent bowler. (Yes, for God's sake, it's candlepin bowling, I'm sorry, we're in New England here, blahblahblah.) He has the same reaction whenever he sees me throw a Frisbee. I can just see him struggling not to say, "Hey, you're such a spaz, I always forget you can do do these two things!" Anyhow, I'm embarrassingly sore today, particularly in those old glutes and hamstrings and quads. Oh, but did I mention that I'm the only one who got a spare? (No, there were no strikes to be had by anyone yesterday.) In any event, Ow to the third.

Plain Ice Cream

When we want ice cream, we pretty much always go to J. P. Licks. Every flavor is consistently delicious, and the people who work there are nice. We used to go to Ice Cream Club before it closed (yes, we know there's another one, but we always forget it's there) or to Ice Cream Works before that closed too. We never go to Cold Stone Creamery because we think the ice cream is mediocre—and they once messed up a friend's son's birthday cake and refused to make good on it.

We recently read that a new place, Coney Island, had won a blind taste-test for their vanilla, so we headed over today. Pete, Julie, and I all got the Oreo, which was yummy, and Steph got mint chocolate chip, which she also liked. Andy went with the vanilla and found it to be ... completely flavor-free. It was the strangest thing. It was the right color, texture, temperature, everything—but there was absolutely no discernible vanilla flavor at all. Not an artificial flavor, mind you, but no flavor. Either someone forgot to add the vanilla when they mixed up this batch or this is a case of the emperor wearing no clothes. While eating ice cream.

Cats on Beds

You might recall that we've always made the cats sleep in the basement—something I've never been happy about, but that's the way it goes. As we did last year, this summer while Steph was at sleepaway camp, we let the cats sleep upstairs with us, and it was great. We'd also had some water in the basement (Did I mention that it rained almost every flippin' day this summer?), and the carpeting was beyond stinky, so I especially didn't want to trap them down there every night.

When Steph came home from camp, we explained to her that after the first couple of nights, when the cats were so excited at the novelty of their night-time freedom that they did bother us a bit, they settled down and we really didn't hear much from them at all. Steph surprised us all by agreeing to give it a try. She's the least enamored of the cats, so we fully expected her to refuse.

Well, it turns out that they're behaving themselves and leaving her alone. She keeps her door closed, and they pawed at her door the first night, then gave up. The rest of us keep our doors ajar so the cats can come and go if they wish. The other night Mr. Jones stuck his face right in mine at 4:14 a.m., but otherwise I haven't seen him at all (we still don't know where he sleeps), and Grace usually spends the night with Pete or Julie.

In the News

1. I like Biden. He's straightforward and honest—you always know where you stand with him, whether you agree with him or not (and I do usually agree with him). I think he was by far Obama's best choice.

2. I'm told that the Olympics are over, and I can say with all honesty that I did not watch a single second of them.

3. !drawkcab skrow neve elgooG !ni tsuj sihT

Reviews

I've got to start keeping track of who recommends what to me, because sometimes I love a movie, book, CD, or whatever so much that I want to hug the person who turned me on to it, and other times I want to say to the person, "Huh? What were you thinking?" Unfortunately, the latter was the case with both a movie I watched and a book I read this week.

First the movie: "Revolver" had a lot going for it, but it ended up getting so wrapped up in its own in-depth psychological exploration that it had me rolling my eyes. I liked Jason Statham well enough, but Ray Liotta was overacting (or perhaps just not acting at all) to such an extent that I actually laughed out loud a couple of times—and not at funny parts. (Or, as the Boston Globe review put it, "You laugh with it but mostly at it.") Here's what Roger Ebert had to say:

It is a "thriller" without thrills, constructed in a meaningless jumble of flashbacks and flash-forwards and subtitles and mottos and messages and scenes that are deconstructed, reconstructed and self-destructed.... It kept turning back on itself, biting its own tail, doubling back through scenes with less and less meaning and purpose, chanting those sayings as if to hammer us down into accepting them.

I don't always agree with him, but this time I did.

Now, who was it who pressed Mary Guterson's novel We Are All Fine Here into my hands? I don't do chick lit at all, so someone must have been pretty persuasive with this one. Well, peh. It's the story of Julia, who married Jim when she found out she was pregnant by him, although she acknowledges that their relationship wouldn't have lasted much longer if she hadn't gotten pregnant. Their marriage is "fine." Ugh. They have a teenage son, Chad, whom we never really get to know, and it doesn't seem that Julia or Jim know him at all either.

Julia, meanwhile, is still head over heels for her ex-boyfriend Ray, who sometimes calls up drunk and tells her he loves her. Next you thing you know, they find themselves getting all sweaty together in the bathroom at the wedding of some old friends, after which Julia finds herself pregnant again—but this time she doesn't know who the father is.

Julia works in the "resource room" at the local high school, a job she doesn't enjoy or feel she's any good at. Jim is a sportswriter at the local paper and can't hide his infatuation with the new advertising assistant there. The whole situation is pretty bad.

But don't worry! Everything turns out great in the end! Issues are resolved without any real effort—even though these issues have been plaguing Julia for decades! People show their true colors, and the good people have really good colors! Phew.

Please, people, I don't like chick lit. It's fine with me if you like it, but I don't want to read any more chick lit novels, OK?

Tax Cut?

Here's a nifty graphic that compares McCain's and Obama's tax plans. For those of you out there who earn more than $2.87 million per year (are you reading my blog on your private jet?), McCain will decrease your taxes by 4.4% and Obama will increase your taxes by 11.5%. If, on the other hand, you earn less than $18,981 per year, McCain will decrease your taxes by 0.2% and Obama will decrease your taxes by 5.5%. Think on that, in one of your houses, if you can remember how many you have.

Typo Eradication As Vandalism

This just in! My soulmates at the Typo Eradication Advancement League (don't bother clicking on the link therein, as their site has been taken down) have been fined $3,035 and ordered not to set foot in a national park for one year because of their act of typo eradication vandalism at the Grand Canyon last year. Here's the Google-cached blog post from that day; the key passage is this:

I [that's Jeff] was able to wipe out the erroneous apostrophe quite well with a black marker, but as for inserting one in the correct place, I had to resort to the less elegant solution of white-out. Benjamin pointed out that a comma was also missing later in the paragraph, so I put that in too.

Those marks really didn’t blend in well at all. I was reluctant to disfigure the sign any further, so we had to let the other typo stand. There was nothing we could do. Still, I think I shall be haunted by that perversity, emense, in my train-whistle-blighted dreams tonight.

Oh, the humanity!

Friday iPod Random Ten

1. Rex's Blues (live) - Jay Farrar & Kelly Willis
2. Hoodoo Party - Paul Rishell
3. Rosalie - Chris Smither
4. Monkey Man - The Specials
5. Guitar Town (live) - Emmylou Harris
6. Berks County Boy - Frog Holler
7. Five Years Old (live) - Loudon Wainwright III
8. 13 Step Boogie (live) - Martin Sexton
9. Can't Find My Way Home (live) - Bonnie Raitt
10. Proof - Paul Simon

Friday Fill-Ins

1. Dancing to my iTunes while cooking makes me look like a dork.

2. The last time I stood up I nearly screamed from the pain in my tailbone.

3. When I drive I like to sing loudly—unless my kids are in the car, because they make me stop.

4. I saw Mr. Jones standing half an inch from my face at 4:14 this morning. Startled the crap out of me.

5. Give me tea, give me toast, give me my MacBook Pro. Good morning!

6. Next week I am looking forward to going up to the White Mountains for the last time this summer.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I’m looking forward to relaxing at home, tomorrow my plans include relaxing at home, and Sunday, I want to relax at home! (Jeez, I've got to get a life!)

Cover Girl

Yesterday Mental_Floss had a feature on little-known songs that are arguably better than their more-famous cover versions—for instance, Neil Diamond's original version of "I'm a Believer," made popular by the Monkees.

I tend to prefer the first version of a song I hear, regardless of whether it's the original or a cover. (Which is why it's all the more puzzling that I can never seem to stop myself from purchasing tribute CDs that contain nothing but covers of a favorite artist's songs.) So that might explain why I prefer the Monkees' cover of "I'm a Believer."

(Although something tells me that I still would have preferred the English Beat's cover of "Can't Get Used to Losing You" even if I'd previously been familiar with the original 1963 version by, um, Andy Williams—a sarcastic thanks to Mark for sharing that song with me.)

There are millions of exceptions, of course. There are certain songs that I like so much that I "collect" different versions of them, like "The Long Black Veil" (which I have by everyone from the Band to Dave Matthews & Emmylou Harris to the Grateful Dead) and "Oh Susanna" (James Taylor, Michelle Shocked & Pete Anderson, the Be Good Tanyas), "Angel from Montgomery" (John Prine, Bonnie Raitt, Susan Tedeschi, Ben Harper & Tom Freund, Dave Matthews), and so on. Other songs did nothing for me the first time I heard them, but a cover version caught my attention—for instance, Johnny Cash's cover of the Nine Inch Nails song "Hurt" or Richard Thompson's cover of the Britney Spears song "Oops! ... I Did It Again."

What about you—covers or originals?

Wiki Wednesday

Time to learn something!

1. Go to Wikipedia.
2. Click on "Random article" in the left-hand sidebar box.
3. Post it!

Here's what I got:

Howard's Knob is a mountain located in Boone, NC in Watauga County. According to the US Geological Survey, the mountain's proper name is Howard Knob, but it is known to locals and tourists as Howard's Knob. Howard's Knob and the surrounding area are part of the Appalachian Mountain Range. The mountain has an elevation of 4,406 feet (1,343 m) above sea level, and rises nearly 1,000 feet (300 m) above the town of Boone and the campus of Appalachian State University.

Howard's Knob. Heh-heh. Heh-heh.

Everyone Loved George

Yesterday our wonderful vet-who-makes-house-calls came to check out Mr. Jones and Gracie and give them their rabies and distemper shots. Our cats sort of think they're dogs; they come running to greet newcomers instead of slinking under a bed at the sound of the door like other cats.

So here's why Dr. Jake gets the big bucks: As the cats approached, he smiled and said, "I still always think of them as kittens; I can't think of anyone besides George as your big cat." Julie asked, "Who's George?" I said, "He's the cat we had before you were born. He was the greatest cat in the world." Julie asked, "Why?" Jake said, "There was just something special about George. He had this quality...." to which I added, "He had true soul." And then we talked about the glory of George for a while.

This is a cat who died 12 years ago. And he was not even the most recent cat we had who died; Weezy lived another 4 years beyond George. We loved Weezy, but suffice it to say that she was not George. (Or make that: Weezy, I served with George; I knew George; George was a friend of mine. Weezy, you're no George.)

Everyone thinks their own dead pet was the greatest ever; our vet knows that we're right.

Oh, and he also makes the kids crack up with endless cat-butt and cat-poop jokes. So there's that.

Signs of Aging

Last week I had my first appointment with my post–Dr. Stern primary-care physician. He didn't do all the stuff that Dr. Stern used to do, but I like him well enough.

I told him that I think I need to see an orthopedist for my frozen shoulder and the excruciating pain in my tailbone whenever I stand up (whoops, forgot to tell you about that one). He said that I don't in fact have frozen shoulder; I have an impingement (also known as bursitis when it's in the shoulder), which is exactly what Liz said her orthopedist husband Wally said when she read him my description of the pain many months ago. He said I have three options, none of which is surgery: (1) get a cortisone shot, if it's really unbearable, (2) go for physical therapy, which works pretty well for this problem, or (3) live with it. Because it hurts much less than it did a year ago, I'm going to try to continue living with it.

As for the other problem, a couple of months ago, I started getting a sharp pain right at the end of my coccyx every time I stand up after sitting for a while. It is really painful, and I can't recall falling or anything like that. The doctor sent me for x-rays; we'll see what comes of that. Yowch.

I Like Bike

I told Julie that as soon as she was riding her bike without training wheels pretty well, I would get a bike so we could go on family bike rides on all those local bike trails we've heard so much about. She's been doing great, so it seemed like time to put my money where my mouth was. I did end up taking advantage of the tax-free weekend, because I bought a bike on Sunday! They had to assemble it, so I didn't get to pick it up until today:

This is the first bike I've owned since I was a kid. I bumped up one notch from the bottom-of-the-line hybrid to the one that had front shocks. I was torn between getting the unisex (read: men's) model with the bar across the top and the women's model without it; I ended up going with the latter. I know that it is a little bit dorky, but so am I for that matter.

(Please disregard my hair in the photo. My hairdresser has been out for weeks—first on vacation and now home with mono. I'm finally caving in and going to see Someone Else tomorrow. Wish me luck.)

Monday Funnies

Sometimes it's hard to understand the lyrics when Joe Cocker's singing. This close-captioned video ought to help. I honestly can't recall the last time I laughed so hard. 

Check out the spoofy captions for these government warning signs.

This site has emailable fill-in-the-blank correspondence (sort of like Mad Libs). I especially like the Formal Apology.

What's in a Name?

Naomi blogged recently about how she came up with her kids' names, so I will too (although not as part of a meme, as she did).

As you've probably surmised from our kids' names, Andy and I are all about traditional. And within the realm of traditional, we tend to shy away from trendy-traditional. In other words, if certain old-fashioned or Biblical names are all the rage, count us out. We also don't like names that are tricky to spell or pronounce (probably a carryover from my first 26 years with a long and confusing surname), that could be considered androgynous, or that sound like surnames. And, in keeping with Jewish tradition, we ruled out any names that were already in use in our extended families; Jews name their kids after dead relatives only. Finally, we had to make sure the names sounded good with our surname.

So. When I was pregnant with Steph, we didn't know whether we were having a girl or a boy. I didn't have amnio, and we didn't want anyone to take a guess—however educated—from an ultrasound. Moreover, we just wanted to be surprised. We had a boy's name picked out almost immediately: We both loved Peter, and in fact it was the only boy's name we ever agreed on. We went through many girl's names and ended up torn between Stephanie and Martha. We still hadn't decided even by the time I was in labor; when Steph was born, we just decided she didn't look like a Martha. I can't recall when or how we came up with Jane for her middle name, or even whether that would have been the middle name if we'd gone with Martha.

When I was pregnant with Pete, I did have amnio. I would have been content to not find out whether we were having a boy or a girl, but it killed Andy that the results were right there in my folder and we didn't know. So we looked, and that made it easy: We still loved the name Peter. We took Andy's maternal grandfather's name, Newman, for the middle name.

Then, with Julie, we were glad to find out we would have another girl, because Peter was still the only boy's name we could agree on! Honestly, every other boy's name seemed to have an unpleasant association for one of us. We ended up down to the wire between Julie and Jamie; I think in the end I decided to hold firm to my anti-androgynous stance. (Although sometimes now I think Julie looks more like a Jamie!) We hadn't settled on a middle name before she was born, and I remember the social security lady kept calling me at the hospital to ask for Julie's full name so she could order the birth certificate. I finally just came up with Mae, although I don't know how.

So that's how Stephanie Jane, Peter Newman, and Julie Mae got named. They also all have Hebrew names that come from their great-grandparents (and one great-great aunt).

Patch Me Through

The weirdest thing happened last night. Andy spent the day in Maine at his camp's 60th reunion. He was driving back home, late, and called me a few times just to stay alert. At one point the phone rang, and I saw his cell number on the caller ID. But when I picked it up and said, "Hello," a gruff man's voice answered and we did the "Hello? Who is this? No, who is this?" thing a few times before he hung up. I was in a total panic, imagining everything from Andy's having been kidnapped to his phone having been stolen to a state trooper on the line after god-knows-what incident.

I immediately called him back and he answered, thank heavens. He said that he had indeed dialed me (or, more accurately, touched the pre-programmed "home" button), but a woman, sounding as though she had been the one placing the call, said, "Hi, is Don there?" So, apparently, somehow her call to Don got crossed with Andy's call to me. I've heard of such things in the old days of switchboard operators, but how in the heck does it happen in 2008? It took me quite a while to calm down.

Taxes, Schmaxes

Today Andy is up in Maine at his camp reunion, so the kids and I had a day to kill. After much deliberation, one of the things we all agreed to do was go to Target. Pete wanted to use his own money to buy a Bakugan toy, the girls wanted to look at clothing, and I had a return.

I normally wouldn't go near Target on a Saturday—you know how much I loathe crowded parking lots and stores—but I figured what the heck. What the heck indeed, since I forgot it was the annual tax-free weekend here in Massachusetts! D'oh! As I approached the store and saw the sign out front, I smacked my forehead but, unfortunately, not hard enough to put myself into a coma.

It took a year to find a parking spot, because there's also a Best Buy in this strip mall, so everyone and their cousin was there buying big-ticket electronic items. We finally did and then made our way through the crowds into the store, which also happens to be under construction, so it was a mess inside.

We got our stuff and left, with me cursing and muttering under my breath, "Never again!" Later on, at the pool, I ran into a friend who had likewise forgotten about the tax-free thing and went to the mall to buy one item at Sephora and could barely get past the line snaking out from the Apple store.

Professor Plum in the Spa? With the Trophy?

Oh, now I've heard everything. Hasbro has "updated" the Clue game with new rooms and weapons, and now all the suspects have first names and "special powers."

How on earth can you have a murder mystery without a lead pipe, I ask you? Sheesh.

Friday iPod Random Ten

1. Passionate Kisses - Lucinda Williams
2. Sweet Dreams (live) - Elvis Costello & The Attractions
3. Slots - Sam Baker
4. The Flyer - Nanci Griffith
5. Many Rivers to Cross - Jimmy Cliff
6. Oh Susanna - The Be Good Tanyas
7. Dock of the Bay - Willie Nelson & Johnny Cash
8. Please Don't Talk About Me When I'm Gone - Harry Connick, Jr.
9. Roll 'Um Easy - J. D. Souther
10. Could We - Cat Power

Friday Fill-Ins

1. The last meal I had at a restaurant was so long ago I can't even remember—must have been some mediocre seafood we had one night at the Cape.

2. Mustard is something I intensely dislike. But you already knew that.

3. The full moon is sometimes so low and huge and glowing that it looks like a special effect.

4. "Wicked good" is one of my favorite local expressions.

5. Sometimes it's best to just open that second bottle of wine already and stop overthinking it.

6. Either "Juno" or Iron Man" is the best movie I've seen so far this year! (I know, I know—could any two movies be more different? What can I say?)

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I’m looking forward to doing nothing, tomorrow my plans include doing nothing, and Sunday, I want to do nothing! (Notice a trend here?)

The Family, Reunited

Steph's home! (Along with about 6 tons of mildewy towels, sheets, and articles of clothing.) She had a great time at camp. She is half reveling in the joys of TV, computer, iPod, Bill's pizza, J. P. Licks ice cream, her own bed, a private shower, etc. and half wallowing in the doldrums of not having a dozen friends to hang out with 24/7.

Pete and Julie finish up day camp tomorrow, and then it's just, um, three flipping weeks until school starts.

Lost, Found, Re-Lost, Re-Found

On Monday Janet and I went to the outlet mall in Wrentham—something I'd been meaning to do for years. It is huge—much bigger than the outlet mall we sometimes stop at on the way to/from Franconia—and it was thrilling to be there without bored kids. We had a great time, and I bought a few goodies, not least of which was a bra that actually fits! In fact, 4 of them! The only bad news was that at some point in my fitting-room frenzy, I lost an earring. It wasn't anything terribly fancy, but it was one of my absolute favorites. (Hey, Nancy? Remember those pinkish-purple teardrops you gave me a few years ago that I lost once and then found? Um, well, ....) Janet and I went back and retraced my steps, but to no avail. I figured that was the price of finally finding a decent bra. Fast-forward to tonight, when a clerk from the bra store called to say she'd found the earring! I'd left my name and number, but with each passing day, I was that much closer to tossing out the other one. So glad I didn't! She's going to mail it to me. Happy, Happy, Happy. I guess these earrings have 9 lives. Or at least 3. (For the record, I later re-lost that bracelet at No. 9 Park—permanently.)

Neda Ulaby! Neda Ulaby! Neda Ulaby!

This may well be my favorite list in all of Wikipedia: NPR Personnel. For weeks now I've been unable to stop chanting, "Neda Ulaby!" ("Nedda Oo-la-bee") all day long; she definitely has my favorite NPR name at the moment. My last favorite NPR name was Lakshmi Singh (or perhaps Mandalit del Barco).  In the '80s, of course, it was Sylvia Poggioli, but only they way she said it. I wish someone would prepare an audio quiz in which a couple dozen NPR personalities each recite the same paragraph, and we have to guess their voices. I'd score a perfect 100%, I just know it.

Wiki Wednesday

Time to learn something!

1. Go to Wikipedia.
2. Click on "Random article" in the left-hand sidebar box.
3. Post it!

This is what I got (really!):

Orophernes Nicephorus (in Greek Oρoφέρνης Nικηφόρoς) was one of the two false sons whom Antiochis imposed upon her husband, Ariarathes IV, king of Cappadocia. On the birth, however, of a real son, named Mithradates (afterwards Ariarathes V), Orophernes, so that he might not set up pretensions to the throne, was sent away into Ionia. When Ariarathes V refused to marry the sister of Demetrius I Soter, king of Syria, the king supported the claims of Orophernes to the crown of Cappadocia.

In 157 BC, when Ariarathes had been deposed and had fled to Rome, Orophernes sent two ambassadors (Timotheus and Diogenes) to the capital city to join the emissaries of Demetrius in opposing his brother. According to Appian the Romans decided that the two claimants should share the throne between them.

We are told, however, that Orophernes did not hold the kingdom long, and it is alleged that his reign was signalized by a departure from the more simple customs of his ancestors and by the introduction of systematic debauchery. To supply his lavish extravagance, he oppressed and pillaged his subjects, putting many to death and confiscating their property.

He deposited 400 talents with the citizens of Priene as a resource in case of a reversal of fortune, but the Priennians later returned the money.

When Orophernes' business affairs were on the decline, he became alarmed that his soldiers might mutiny over unpaid wages so he plundered an ancient temple of Zeus to pay them off. Orophernes was forced at the end to return to Syria, where he entered into a conspiracy with the people of Antioch to dethrone Demetrius. The latter threw Orophernes into chains, but spared his life that he might still keep Ariarathes in alarm with his pretensions.

Today Orophernes is mainly known for a poem written by the celebrated modern Greek poet Constantine P. Cavafy in 1915. In meditating on a tetradrachm found in Priene, the poet wrote "Orophernes," on the pretender's life and his adventures.

If Orophernes is "mainly known" for that poem, I can't imagine what his lesser claims to fame might have been.

Orophernes Nicephorus. Orophernes Nicephorus. Orophernes Nicephorus. Say that three times fast.

12 Hours to Go!

Tomorrow's the big day: We're picking up Steph from camp! It's been a long, rainy month, but her letters (we get several a day) never have a negative word. "I'm having an awesome time!" "I'm so staying for two months next year!" "I don't want camp to end!" This is all we have ever wanted: for her to have as wonderful a camp experience as we both had.

So tomorrow, very early, we'll drop Pete and Julie at Janet's house–with their backpacks and Pop-Tarts—and head north. They'll carpool to day camp, and then I'll have Steph with me when I pick them up in the afternoon! Julie is beside herself with excitement. She has really missed having her big sis around. Pete, on the other hand, has enjoyed being the big kid of the house and the evening out of the boy-girl balance. (I mean the verb even-ing, not the noun evening. Why does that look so weird all of a sudden?)

Steph has requested the same meal for her big welcome home as she had for her big send-off last month: Bill's Pizza followed by an ice cream at J. P. Licks. Nothing wrong with that.

Fourth Movie Review in Three Days

Seems I've gone from no movie reviews to lots of them all at once, so here's one more. The other night we watched "Kitchen Stories," which was yet another in a long line of tiny little foreign films that are worth watching if you have patience. It's slow—oh man, is it slow—but the characters develop so beautifully and so lovingly that you end up glad you stuck it out. Well, at least I did.

Apparently, sometime in the 1950s, Sweden's Home Research Institute sent a bunch of workers out into the field—that is, to the homes of single Norwegian men, to sit on tall chairs in their kitchens and observe their every movement without interacting with them at all. Naturally, though, relationships happen. The movie tells the story of one particular friendship that develops during this observational study. It's very nice, sentimental without being mawkish.

Oy Vey!

The other day I was listening to a rebroadcast of a Fresh Air interview between Terry Gross and Michael Chabon about his novel The Yiddish Policemen's Union (which I have not read, but it just won a Hugo). Chabon takes an actual but little-known piece of history and imagines what would have happened if things had gone differently than they did in real life. Apparently a proposal really came before Congress in which all the Jews who were fleeing Nazi-occupied Europe could settle temporarily in Alaska, of all places. In the interview (which is well worth listening to—this was my second time), Chabon says that the initial inspiration for the novel came from a phrasebook he saw somewhere: Yiddish for Travelers. This struck him as very curious, since, as he puts it, it's a book for travelers with no real destination in mind. (He also jokes about how such books always have a weird assortment of "necessary" phrases to learn, like "I need a tourniquet" and "Which way to the casino"?)

So that reminded me that a while back, Nancy posted a link to this Survey of American Jewish Language. I found it fun and fascinating and kept meaning to post it here but never got around to it until today. You should give it a whirl, even if you're not Jewish—really!

I grew up hearing my parents sprinkle Yiddish words and phrases into their conversations—particularly, I suspect, when they didn't want us kids to understand what they were saying, but also because there are loads of Yiddish words that have no ready English counterpart. How else are you going to say "plotz" or "meshugas"?

Then I had to go dig up this passage from Philip Roth's novel Portnoy's Complaint:

The novelist, what's his name, Markfield, has written in a story somewhere that until he was fourteen he believed "aggravation" to be a Jewish word. Well, this was what I thought about "tumult" and "bedlam," two favorite nouns of my mother's. Also "spatula."

(I had to look up Wallace Markfield—never read him.) Although I can see what he means about "tumult," I don't recall ever thinking that an English word was really Yiddish. On the other hand, I do remember being surprised to find out that certain English words in fact came from the Yiddish, like "maven" and "glitch" and "spiel." So many Yiddish words are now heard commonly everywhere, like "schmooze," "klutz," "tush," "schlep," "nosh," and "shtick," among others, that they're in most English dictionaries.

[Update 3/8/11: For some reason this post seems to attract more spam than usual, so I'm hereby closing off comments. If you have something non-spammy to add to the conversation, please email me!]

Better Movies

To make up for Friday's awful movie experience, I had a good-movie two-fer yesterday.

In the afternoon I took Pete and a pal to see "Journey to the Center of the Earth." I didn't realize until we got there that it was a 3D movie, and it's just as well, because I'm pretty sure I would have feigned illness and made Andy go in my stead. As it turned out, the 3D experience didn't bother me—and it was a great movie! I expected to get a "sick headache" after the first 30 minutes wearing those stupid glasses, but instead I found that I got used to them and didn't mind them one bit. That being said, I think this movie would have been almost as enjoyable without the 3D-ness—perhaps a few scenes would have been less screamy and squirmy, but all in all, it was certainly not the only reason the movie succeeded.

Brendan Fraser (whom I didn't know, because I don't do "Mummy" movies, but who reminds me of Chris Noth) plays a geology professor whose brother disappeared 10 years ago while searching for Jules Verne's lost world inside the earth's core. He and his nephew (the dead brother's son) are soon jetting off to Iceland, where they meet a mountain guide (she's beautiful, if you can believe it!) who will help them get to the spot where their exploration will begin. The nice thing about the mountain guide is that, unlike the female character in most adventure movies, she is not about to twist her ankle while trying to escape danger on stiletto heels. She's rugged and strong and knowledgeable about survival tactics.

What follows is a blast! A rollicking, exciting, fun-filled, mildly scary blast. This is what Indy should have been. (For the record, I haven't seen the latest Indy movie, and I don't intend to—it was panned so universally that I'd rather spare myself.) It's not overly long or overly complicated or overly scripted or any of that. They get in, they have their adventure (complete with many truly exciting scenes, as well as some very humorous moments), and get out. That's it. Way to go! Take your kids to see this one, and if you don't have kids, take yourself. Fun.

Then, last night, Andy and I watched "11:14" on DVD. Like "Crash," this movie looks at what happens when a bunch of otherwise unrelated lives come together (in this case, at 11:14 PM one night). Unlike "Crash," this film has good acting (from Hilary Swank, Ben Thomas, Patrick Swayze, Barbara Hershey, and others) and doesn't ram a message down our throats every 5 seconds. It takes you right up until the final scene to figure out how everything ties together (really, all the action and conflict are one character's "fault"), and it's a satisfying conclusion. I can't call this a must-see, but it's interesting and well-crafted all the same.

AnchorStupid*

Somehow Andy got it into his head that "Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy" was a good movie, so to the top of the Netflix queue it went. I am now officially changing the password. What a horrible, unfunny movie! After the first 20 minutes, in which I never even cracked a smile, I grabbed a New Yorker (I'm up to December 10 now, you'll be happy to know) instead. I glanced up every now and then, but there was never anything funny going on. Andy was soon snoring in his chair, so that settled that.

If you've been hanging out at verbatim for even a short while, you know that I'm all for funny movies. And as much as I love highbrow humor, I really get a kick out of the goofy kind too, if it's done well. This was not. I can appreciate well-executed slapstick and cheap but clever jokes (here's proof: I even enjoyed "Dodgeball"), but this just wasn't funny! The script was awful, and the physical humor just not on-target.

I know that many people think Will Ferrell is some kind of comic genius, but he does nothing for me. Steve Carell, whom I like, was totally wasted as the slightly retarded meteorologist. The only worthwhile one to watch was Fred Willard—no surprise, as he is one of the greatest deadpan comic actors of all time—and even he couldn't keep this thing afloat.

*In 1981, I recommended "Chariots of Fire" to my sister Lauren. She hated it, thought it was the most boring thing imaginable. When I asked her about it, she said, "Oh, you mean 'Chariots of Stupid'?" Andy loves this story, so that usage makes a regular appearance around here.

Fly! Be Free!

In the car the other day, Pete said, apropos of nothing, "Don't you hate that feeling that you wish you could have superpowers and you know you can't? Like, that you could fly?" Poor guy, welcome to the harsh realities of life here on earth.

Meanwhile, what is it with guys and flying? Andy has said that flying would undoubtedly be his superpower of choice—and, indeed, he still occasionally dreams he can fly. I've never wished I could fly.

Friday iPod Random Ten

1. Shady Grove - Crooked Still
2. Baltimore - Lyle Lovett
3. Five Years Old - Loudon Wainwright III
4. Sin City - Dead Ringer Band
5. Hold On - RedBird
6. This Heart - Nanci Griffith
7. Steady On - Shawn Colvin
8. Crooked Piece of Time - Todd Snider & John Prine
9. Rainy Day - Keller Williams & Martin Sexton
10. Statesboro Blues - Chris Smither

Malls Bad! Grammar Good!

Regular verbatim readers know that there's very little I hate worse than going to the mall. But one of the things that make that short list is paying for return shipping on stuff I ordered online and need to send back. So, once or twice a year I schlep out to the mall with a load of Lands' End stuff destined for the Sears store, and occasionally some Eddie Bauer stuff for the store there.

There used to be an Eddie Bauer store nearer to me, but it closed, and I have some stuff I bought during their online sale that I don't want to keep. So with only a week left before camp ends and errands become a major production, today I did the god-awful Route 9 thing, only to arrive at the mall and discover that that Eddie Bauer store had closed too! HUH? 270 stores, and not one of them is an Eddie Bauer? I called the 800 number and was told that there's still a store up in Burlington, or that I could return my stuff to an outlet, even though it was not purchased at an outlet. Which means I could have done that when we went to the outlet in New Hampshire in July. Ah well, let's see if I can remember to do it in August when we go up for the fair.

But I did get to go to the nice Target out there, as opposed to the yucky one that's nearer to me. And I did get to run into my friend Sue, who took advantage of the impromptu meeting to ask me whether it was wrong to use just an apostrophe after "Red Sox" to form the possessive, as in "the Red Sox' chances." She saw it somewhere and it didn't look right to her. Her instincts were correct; it should be "the Red Sox's chances." I scoured all my style guides but couldn't find this particular usage addressed; the closest I got was the Chicago Manual, which at least mentions forming the possessive of proper nouns that end in x: "Marx's theories." They don't specifically treat something like "Red Sox," which is doubly confusing since it is also a (very) irregular plural.

Chicago first gives a general rule for forming the possessive (7.17 for those playing along at home): "The possessive of most singular nouns is formed by adding an apostrophe and an s, and the possessive of plural nouns (except for a few irregular plurals that do not end in s) by adding an apostrophe only." They then go on to say (7.18), "The general rule covers most proper nouns, including names ending in s, x, or z, in both their singular and plural forms." That last bit, about "singular and plural" is confusing, because they mean obvious plurals like "the Lincolns' marriage."

I also Googled quite a bit and came up with a google of instances of "Red Sox's," but when I tried to search for instances of it without the s, I found that Google just ignores the apostrophe, even when I put "Red Sox' " in quotation marks with a space after the apostrophe.

The only other name I could think of that ends with x in the plural is "Sioux"; obviously the possessive takes apostrophe-s because the x is silent: "the Sioux's tribal lands."

This also brings up the question of whether singular-sounding team names (for instance, the Miami Heat, the Utah Jazz) should take singular or plural verbs. I could go either way on this one, but I think I'd prefer to use a plural verb: "The Heat are in town." It sounds strange to me to say, "The Jazz is in the lead at the half." William Safire and I do not see eye to eye on this question. I'd rather be consistent with all teams ("The Patriots are...," "The White Sox are...," and "The Magic are...").

And that reminds me that I'm way overdue responding to a query from Di about the country-western duo Sugarland. She read a review that said, "Sugarland have grown into one of the country's most successful and beloved acts." That "have" drove Di crazy, and me too. You certainly wouldn't say "Wilco are coming to Boston" or "Radiohead have a new CD." So in this case, I'm with Safire that singular-sounding nouns should take singular verbs and plurals for plurals. I don't know why musical groups and teams should be treated differently, but that's just what sounds better to me.

Wiki Wednesday

Time to learn something!

1. Go to Wikipedia.
2. Click on "Random article" in the left-hand sidebar box.
3. Post it!

Or, rather, fore!

The Ohio State University Golf Club is located at 3605 Tremont Road, Columbus, Ohio 43221. It was founded by L.W. St. John, (Ohio State University Athletic Director, 1912-1947). The golf club has two classical golf courses called Scarlet and Gray. The Scarlet was completed in 1938 and the Gray was finished later in 1940. The dedication ceremony was held on May 18, 1940, when Bob Kepler, (golf coach from 1938-1965) Chick Evans, Blanche Sohl, and Patty Berg played 18 holes on the Scarlet course. The Scarlet golf course was designed by Dr. Alister MacKenzie, a world-renowned golf course architect. It is rated as one of the top collegiate courses in the nation. In 2005 and 2006 the Scarlet Course underwent a major restoration project overseen by former Buckeye legend Jack Nicklaus. In 1941, Ohio State made history when it hosted the first ever women's collegiate golf championship on the Scarlet course. In 1982, Ohio State hosted the final Association for Intercollegiate Athletics for Women (AIAW) Division I National Championship. In 1991, Ohio State hosted the NCAA Women's Championship, commemorating the 50th Anniversary of the national tournament for women on the course on which it was conceived. The women's program later went on to host the 1997 and 2006 tournaments as well. The Scarlet Course has also played host to 10 men's National Championships. Over the years the Ohio State Scarlet course has been the site of several U.S. Open qualifiers, U.S. Amateur qualifiers and the 1977 USGA Junior Championship.

Hmm, my dad is a golfer and went to OSU. I'll have to ask him if he ever played there. Sounds out of the range of the average college kid, but you never know.

Wordy

This quiz purports to reveal how many of the 100 most common English words you can type in 5 minutes, but it doesn't say how it came up with this particular list. It's fun anyhow, and I got 61 of 'em. I missed a few really easy ones, and I was surprised to see that others weren't included.

Hint #1: If you start typing a long word that happens to have the same beginning as a shorter word, the latter will be accepted, but you can then type the longer word again—for instance, if you start typing "butter," it will accept "butt" and then you'll have to go back and type "butter."

Hint #2: Neither "butt" nor "butter" are on the list.

(via Language Hat)

Catching My Breath

After all that stress about work deadlines, I'm finally at a point where I can sit back and relax a little. The first cookbook manuscript went back to the publisher last week, and the second is with the author. She'll review my edits and return it to me, then I'll get it ready to go back to the publisher and I'll be all done! I've so enjoyed both of these projects and can't wait for more—particularly when the kids are back in school and we're not going on vacation....

And then, with perfect timing, a client who's been quiet all summer emailed me this week to ask if I'm ready for a project (yet another online workbook for a French text). Yes, I am.

Andy's bookkeeper is officially retired, although she assures me that she's still available for questions in case I get in over my head. So far I seem to be keeping afloat, although I don't entirely get everything I'm doing. For some of the tasks, I'm just doing exactly what she outlined in her notes to me, using the accounting software program. In many cases, the foundation for my comprehension of what's actually going on is pretty shaky. In particular, I'm not sure I'll ever truly understand why I must enter a debit when assets increase and a credit when they decrease—it just seems wrong every time. Ah well, what's life without a few mysteries?

Andy's in Chicago, so with no work on my desk and my evenings free, I've been doing some reading. I'm backed up to November 12 (!!) on my New Yorker magazines, and I have to read them in order, so I predict I'll be caught up sometime in 2009....

"It's in Belgium"

One night last week Andy and I watched "In Bruges," a darkly comic thriller. I originally thought I would compare it to "You Kill Me," which I reviewed recently, but whereas that movie had a light-hearted feel to its noir-ish-ness and you pretty much knew that everything would turn out OK, it was clear that this one—although very funny at times—could only end badly for everyone.

Bruges is a beautiful old city in Belgium, although Ray (Colin Farrell) declares it a "shithole" before he even arrives. He's a likable but hot-headed Irish hitman who has made a big, bad mistake in London and must hide out for a while with his partner in crime, played wonderfully by Brendan Gleeson. Ray has no interest in sightseeing or making the most of their forced exile. Their boss, whom we only hear on the phone for most of the movie, turns out to be a dangerously mean Ralph Fiennes (doing a very convincing Cockney accent).

Lots of upsetting, violent stuff ends up happening, but there are plenty of quirky laughs along the way, as well as poignant moments and thought-provoking glimpses into the characters. I found myself strangely comforted by the many manifestations of the code of honor among thugs.

My Kids Rock!

Saturday Andy took Pete and Julie to the Boston Rock Gym (owned by our neighbor); Pete had been once before, but not Julie. She tried the climbing wall at camp and loved it, so this seemed like a natural. They had a blast. They are both so very nimble and coordinated:
 

A Dark (K)night Indeed

For those of you keeping track at home, the last time Andy and I went out for dinner and a movie was back in May, when we saw—and loved—"Iron Man." (We did get to go out to dinner once at the Cape when my parents babysat, but we didn't see a movie.) So last night we ended that dry spell. Well, sort of.

In keeping with the theme of billionaire-by-day/superhero-by-night, we went to see "The Dark Knight." I didn't like "Batman Begins," so I don't know why I thought I'd like this one. But it had gotten good reviews, so I thought I'd give it a try. Well, I didn't like it, and neither did Andy. Here are the two main reasons:

1. I just don't see Christian Bale as Batman—he brought nothing to the role. I've liked him in other movies, but he just didn't feel like Batman to me. (Part of the problem might have been his eyebrows; whoever over-tweezed them should be fired.)
2. It was way too long. My God, there were long stretches of scenes where I had no idea what was going on—and didn't even care, frankly.

In addition:

3. Maggie Gyllenhaal was miscast (although her eyebrows were fine). I think she's a good actress, but she didn't have (or show) enough oomph for the role.
4. The plot got convoluted toward the end, and the chase scenes were impossible to follow.
5. There was far too much inane dialogue. I know it's supposed to be comic-book-y, but I can't stand it when a police helicopter crashes and a cop on the ground quips, "That is not good."
6. Some of the violent scenes were a bit much even for me, and I usually don't mind that stuff. We saw young kids in the theatre, and I just know they were all up with nightmares a few hours later.
7. There was hardly any cool gadgetry. That was one of the highlights of "Iron Man" for me.

The good parts: Aaron Eckhart was terrific. So was Heath Ledger (or "Keith Ledger," as I overheard someone saying as we walked out), although it's impossible to tell now whether everyone would have thought so if it weren't his last role before dying. His Joker was not over the top (like Jack Nicholson or Cesar Romero); he was just a sick, twisted, very bad guy. And Michael Caine made a perfect Alfred.

In any event, with about 5 minutes to go in this interminable, dark, confusing movie, Brooke called to say that Pete was crying because he couldn't sleep. He was complaining that every time he closed his eyes, he saw flashing lights (Damn Nintendo! I knew it!). So we watched the end, and then instead of heading over to Legal's for dinner, we came home and ate the kids' leftover pizza and went to bed. Whoop-de-doo!

Any Other Questions?

I think this should settle it once and for all: Is Barack Obama a Muslim?