No Man's Land

I love the week between Christmas and New Year's. It is such a great week of down time. Sort of a trial-run for the New Year's resolutions. Last year I made a list of things to get or get done for 2004 and I managed to get through all of them.
First thing on the top of the list for 2005: write things down. It's such a great first step to acheiving anything and is the start of that thousand mile journey. Don't just think and dream about what you want but start, even in a small way, to acheive it.

Over the holidays I saw two movies on the same day. In "Kinsey" the film about the 20th century sex researcher a college health class is shown a film about the dangers of syphilis. The doctor in that film looked very familiar but I couldn't place him. Later that night it hit me while watching "It's a Wonderful Life" that the doctor was played by Samuel S. Hinds who also played George Bailey's father. My research shows that the health film was Know for Sure from 1941 about a young man who must confront the his careless youth which has led to the death of his newborn child. Maybe Mr. Gower, the druggist, can give you something for that.

Repeat the Sounding Joy

I caught myself only after I said it. "Have a safe and merry Christmas," I wished her. Why safe? Why the concern for safety? What is so dangerous in the world that it requires extra concern for one's health and well-being? Does such a wish actually protect anyone from the risk of evil in the world? Do I want people to wall themselves up from the chance they may slip on the sidewalk or choke on a fishbone if they go out to dinner? No. So, just merry Christmas then.
Yes, "Merry Christmas". Not "Happy Holidays". Why lump them all together? What if they don't celebrate Christmas? Then they can wish me a happy Hanukah or Kwanza or peace.

Broken Spanglish

Leaving the sneak preview of James L. Brooks's new movie Spanglish I overheard an usher ask someone what they thought. "Chick flick" was his two syllable response. This will probably be the reaction of most Adam Sandler fans who venture forth looking for Happy Gilmore or Billy Madison. Those looking for Punch-Drunk Love will be more satisfied.
I don't believe there is such a thing as a "chick flick", anymore than there is a "guy film". Well, the Bridget Jones movie is a chick flick. It seems well made with an appeal to smart, thoughtful women but I just don't get it. Many men thought "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" was a chick flick when in fact the reason they didn't like it was it isn't very good. Basically there are good movies, mediocre movies and crap. Good movies are a wonderful thing.
Spanglish jumps around between good movie and the mediocre/crap border. The worst part is the narrative frame of the story, a Princeton admissions essay by Cristina about the most influential person in her life, her mother, Flor. This plot device doesn't work and just adds a level hokiness to the story. Cristina isn't in most of the scenes so she has no direct knowledge of most of the events she is writing about. It seems like this opening was tacked on by some studio executive or focus group survey. It doesn't work.
What does work is Adam Sandler.
Chef who doens't speak Spanish. Yeah, right.

b-Day +1

My birthday was yesterday. The day started with the day off from work. I slept in. When I got up I made an incredible brunch of a dish I call "spaghetti pie" or "frittata alla spaghetti". Usually it's made with leftover pasta but I never have any pasta left over so I boil the spaghetti then cool it with cold water. I then saute some pancetta in olive oil with a few cloves of garlic, some red pepper flakes and fresh sage and rosemary, mix the pasta with pancetta and add a few beaten eggs and some grated parmesan and pecorino cheeses. Transfer it to a greased pan and bake in a 400 degree oven until golden brown. Slice and serve with a nice glass of wine alongside a small green salad. Perfect birthday lunch. I'll type out the recipe and post it in a few days.
Most of the day was lazy. I read a little and watched some DVDs. Then got ready to go out.
The evening started with dinner with my friends. We went to Talulla's a new Turkish restaurant in Chapel Hill. I'd never had Turkish food before (aside from Thanksgiving). All the food tasted fresh and vibrant. Mint and dill, cumin and pepper, chickpeas and lentils, olives and dolmas. I thought it was a great meal. I started with a great cocktail called the Ginger SPOT with rum and lemon juice, candied ginger and peach essence. A great combination. I could have drunk them all night. For my meal I had a vegetarian mezze platter of eight small dishes. Very enjoyable. We ended the meal with Turkish coffee which is a bit of an acquired taste I'm not sure I want to acquire.
After dinner a couple of us went to the WestEnd Wine bar and then to The Cave to hear a band.

I forgot the name of this band. They were what I'll call a "light punk". They had a good set.
By the time we left my birthday was over. It was a good day.

Fountain at Night

Fountain at Meadowmont, Chapel Hill, NC December 9, 2004.

Hunting Season

It's hunting season again. Though I don't really follow such things I can tell. It's not the autumn-toned leaves or spark of chill in the air or gun fire from the woods at all hours or the parked trucks and campers on the edges of farmlands that alert me. It's the trash. Littered along the road, almost uniformly spaced the length of where trucks would park to easily access the woods, are the empties. 40 ouncers. Coors Silver Bullet cans. Pabst Blue Ribbon. Other crappy, cheap beer. I counted over a dozen patches left by different hunters this morning.
Good to know how much they respect nature through the haze of a cheap-beer buzz. Good to know the noble tradition of the hunt will be passed on to future generations.
I don't have a problem with hunting for meat. I eat meat. I don't have a problem with hunting to control populations of over-large herds produced when we have killed off all their natural predators.
I do have a problem with stupidity, carelessness, thoughtlessness and lack of respect for nature. I hope the next drunken hunter who leaves his trash on the side of the road trips over someone else's buried bottle and blows his foot off. Them's good eatin'.