Welcome to Forgotonia

I’m not a fan of sci fi. I can’t help it. I need character development more than anything else, and anything that’s too plot-heavy has the strange effect of boring me to tears.

But recently I read About Time, a collection of short stories by Jack Finney, who was well-known for writing about time-travel. Finney is also noted for being the writer upon whose work the movie Invasion of the Body Snatchers was based. (And that’s just one of many of his books or stories to be turned into films).

So, why would I stoop so low as to spend time reading about time travel and the like, you ask?

Well, it has to do with a place–a small Midwestern city–where both Finney and I spent some time (although for him it was in the Forties or Fifties and for me in the Aughts).

The ‘Burg Immortalized in a Book

Specifically, the second story in the collection celebrates the real-life town in which Finney lived when he was a college student, and in which I lived during my first few years after college: “I Love Galesburg in the Springtime.”

It turns out, the place–Galesburg, Illinois–hadn’t changed much in the time between Finney’s stay and mine. And it turns out that both of us loved the same things about the place: namely, the very real and tangible reminders of an earlier America.

Despite its rough edges, the neighborhoods that are riddled with violent crime, and its loss of major industrial mainstays (like the Maytag plant, which has stood empty since the company shipped jobs to Mexico in the early 00′s), Galesburg has so many charms–so many signs of a time of prosperity that are long gone, but not totally plowed down (unlike in so many other places).

The first and only time I’ve seen Invasion, for example, was at a special showing at the beautiful old Orpheum Theatre in downtown Galesburg, where it’s hard not to imagine a vaudeville show taking place. (According to one legend, it was in Galesburg that the Marx Brothers–Harpo, Groucho, etc.–were christened with their stage names while in town for a performance.)

And in this short story, Finney celebrates Galesburg as a specimen of history-come-alive, lamenting the way we as a nation tend to replace structures and streets of character with the drab and nondescript.

And as he tells the story about strange occurrences taking place in this prairie city–such as a ghostly cable car rattling down the street, long after such things were outmoded–he mentions so many of the real-life landmarks that are not only still in existence, but which I passed by or encountered nearly every day that I lived and worked the ‘burg:

Local spots named-dropped:

• Cedar Street– I lived on this street (in a fairly crap-tastic apartment) for five of the six years I lived in the town.
• The gorgeous, ostentatious homes built by railroad barons on Prairie, Cherry, etc. streets
• The Kensington, a former hotel that has been turned into an independent living facility, but which, in Finney’s day, was a fairly grand establishment
• The Register-Mail newspaper, (for which the narrator is a reporter, and for which yours truly was actually a real-life reporter)
• The Public Square
• the brick streets

…the references go on and on.

And not only did I enjoy reading his descriptions of such real-life places I had experienced, but, as I was reading, one of these places came to life and, you could say, landed in my lap.

Special Delivery

I purchased the collection of stories containing “I Love Galesburg” several years ago, when I was still living in Galesburg; I found it at a rummage sale in what I think might have been the basement of the Central Congregational Church). But I finally sat down to read the book recently. And when I opened it, something fell out:

newspaper clipping from Galesburg, IL

It was a clipping–somewhat dated, possibly from the 1970s–detailing the impending dedication of…a parking lot. And describing the once-famed structure that stood in its place.

I was already aware, because of my time writing and reporting in Galesburg, of the world- famous horse stables that had stood in the spot mentioned in this clip.

But when it fell from the book, the clipping felt like being visited by a small ghost of the past–tucked away by a person who, like the narrator of “I Love Galesburg in the Springtime,” lamented the loss of grand structures–and hand-delivered to me, in a way that Finney himself most assuredly would have appreciated.

As for the rest of the collection, truthfully, I was bored by some of the stories, and in others, I couldn’t help but cringe at the quaintness and dated-ness. (More than once, Finney’s depiction of women betrayed a Mad Men-treatment-of-office-girls sensibility).

But other times I identified deeply with his sense of nostalgia, his concern that, when we progress as a society, it’s often at the cost of losing something else that seems inherently more dignified somehow. (You can’t tuck clippings away inside a Kindle.)

–

It’s list season, with Best Movies of the Year, Best Albums of the Year, etc., being published everywhere you turn.

At a younger age, I could have actually given a fairly educated take on all these subjects.

But gone are the days of lying on the floor doing nothing but listening to music, of actually subscribing to Rolling Stone, of going to the movies without worrying that I might have to take out a loan.

So, rather than an actual critical assessment based upon hours of careful evaluation, allow me to offer this, based on the cultural highlights I do manage to catch as a boring old adult:

A List of Some Stuff That I Liked in 2011

1. Bossypants, Tina Fey. This book made me laugh, (which I expected), and made me love her even more than I already did (which I did not think possible).
2. Helplessness Blues, Fleet Foxes. Rather than declaring this one a sophomore slump, I ended up liking this one almost as much as the first. Singer/songwriter/frontman Robin Pecknold, in the first lines of the first track on the album, pretty much sums up thousands of thoughts that have been circling through my mind (hint: procreating/not procreating/what is the purpose of life, etc.) for the past decade. And he does it so beautifully, again, in the title track, when he sings about wanting to be “a cog in some greater machinery.” You might think it sounds like navel-gazing, but you’ve got to hear these lyrics set to music. (I’ve tried 279 times in the past 30 minutes to list the lyrics here, but the formatting in this numbered-list function is screwing it up, grr. So you’ll just have to go listen for yourself. You won’t regret it.) As with the first album, however, and despite the gorgeous, Pet Sounds-era Beach Boys-ian harmonies, there a couple tracks I usually skip. (Especially that one with the “saxophone freakout” that lots of critics commented on this year. Dear Fleet Foxes, I would be perfectly happy if you left out the sax squawks in your future efforts. Signed, a fan.)
3. Stone Rollin‘, Raphael Saadiq. This is an album I never would’ve purchased if it weren’t for the rave reviews from the guys on Sound Opinions. (But there are some sweet, tuneful love songs on here, including one that I liked so much, I asked the DJ to play it at our wedding as part of the guests-arriving-time music. (We had an outdoor, not-really-wedding-y wedding, I should probably point out. And, actually, come to think of it, I had him play this one from Helplessness Blues, too. Did I mention how many beautiful songs are on that record?) It’s true that, as with a couple other things I let Sound Opinions talk me into, (like Janelle Monae’s ArchAndroid), I’m more drawn to a handful of songs than to the record as a whole. What great songs those few are, though–powerful and moving and yet catchy at the same time.
4. The Bedwetter: Stories of Courage, Redemption and Pee, Sarah Silverman. This one was darker, and funnier, (and better) than I expected.
5. The Leftovers by Tom Perrotta. When I first learned that one of my favorite living fiction writers had a new book coming out, I was dismayed when I heard the title and the subject matter: the Revelation. But I ended up liking this one maybe even more than his last two, The Abstinence Teacher and Little Children, which were both great. If you’re into literary fiction but also sometimes wish for literary fiction that’s accessible and darkly funny (i.e. does not depress you for weeks on end), this is your guy.
6. Scenes from and Impending Marriage, Adrian Tomine. The one and only problem with this book is that it’s too short. I can’t tell you how refreshing and awesome it was, in the year that I was planning a wedding, to read a critique of the wedding industry actually coming from a guy’s of view (meaning the guy was actually involved enough in the planning to have an opinion!)
7. Everything Must Go*, starring Will Ferrell. Dark, and sad, and based on a short story by Raymond Carver, but somehow still funny and hopeful (seeing a theme here?).
   *Okay so this one, I just discovered after imdb’ing it, actually came out in 2010. But I’m gonna leave it here because I feel like it.
   
8. Win Win, starring Paul Giamatti. One of those sweet slice-of-life stories that you feel like you might possibly have seen before (or something similar), but still somehow feels totally new.

So there’s a smattering for you. There’s a lot more stuff I enjoyed, of course. And so much great stuff out there I’m sure I missed.

So, that’s where you come in, dear reader. Please share some of your own highlights of the year, and tell me what I absolutely must check out before it turns into 2012.

Do what I say!

EDITOR’S NOTE: I wrote the following post at some point several weeks before Chris and I were married in September, but for some reason I never posted it. Probably because I was scared of being cocky and therefor jinxing myself and then, like, dying of shame because I offended so many guests with my non-traditional wedding choices. I will provide another update–an answer to the question posed in this post, i.e., can I stay true to myself as the website offbeatbride.com has been so helpfully encouraging me to do?–at the bottom. Hint: I don’t die.

This week I’ve been having a bit of anxiety about the fact that my well-meaning family members are hoping to throw a shower for me.

While perhaps for many women this would be a source of excitement, for me it’s actually a bit dread-inducing. (Because I, myself, have done nothing but bemoan every single such “party” I’ve ever been invited to. Hypocrite much?)

I’ve tried making some requests to my hostess, and I do appreciate that she wants to throw a party in my honor, but it looks like we’ll be going super traditional (i.e. punch, parlor games, and present-opening. Whee.). I’m trying not to seem ungrateful.

To get through it, perhaps I will remind myself that, even if I’m going to be total hypocritical by having a shower thrown for me, I’ve at least stayed pretty true to my guns for many other decisions involved in the wedding-planning process (a feat that is much harder than it sounds. There’s a bajillion-dollar industry built around bridal peer pressure).

And so, behold, several laws (of wedding tradition) that I have, like Judas Priest, been breakin’:

The Insistence that Tens of Thousands of Dollars Must Be Spent and That the Bride Must Be a Cinderella

(Actual marketing copy from one of the umpteen pamphlets I received from David’s Bridal. Weird use of CAPS are theirs, not mine):

“love your VEIL. It’s as important as your gown, framing your look and defining your style.” [Choice A: a piece of lacy material for $200].) “IMAGINE THE MOMENT all eyes are on you [.]The details are everything when you’re a bride…. The veil makes the bride.”

(Oops. I’m not wearing one. Guess I’m not “made”!)

The Idea that Entire Forests Must Be Killed for the Sake of Elegance

Actual invitation prices advertised by DB: $410.95 for a box of 100. Amount Chris and I paid for our postcard-style invites (which we used ‘cuz we put most of the info on the web site we designed ourselves) : <$30.00

The Acting-as-if-I’m-a-Little-Girl Crap, and the As-If-There-is-No-Groom Ridiculousness:

In other words, we refused to use this kind of wording on the announcements/invites/programs/:

“Mr. and Mrs. [bride's parents] request the honour of your presence at the marriage of their daughter…”

 

The parents are saying it because the bride can’t speak for herself? And the groom doesn’t really want you there?

Look. I do worry a little bit that my parents will see this as a small slight since we’re introducing/inviting in our own words.

I very much want to honor my parents, and to acknowledge their major financial and emotional support for our big day. But seriously? I’m practically middle aged. Having my parents “announce” this event makes me feel like I’m still living at home and they’re still doing my laundry (and I’m hiding cigarettes from them).

NOTE/UPDATE:

We decided to skip best man/matron of honor speeches and just take the mic ourselves to publicly thank the P’s.

I was going to write more about other “laws” we were breaking–like skipping the hideous Let’s- Single-Out-the-Last-Remaining-Single-Friends-We-Have, and-Who-BTW-Are-”Single”-Because They’re-Newly-Divorced, Bouquet Toss–and about how I hoped they would prove to not matter in the end, but I guess I ran out of steam. (Wedding planning will do that to you.)

But the great news is, people seemed to have a good time and appreciate the non-traditional choices we made (or, at the very least, knew us well enough to understand that we’re not uber traditional anyway). If they thought our choice of venue was tacky (complete with its taxidermied deer and campground-style bathroom facilities), they were kind enough to keep it to themselves).

We had music by the Rolling Stones and The Beach Boys in the processional, we tossed candy to kids instead of bouquets to grown women, we hula-hooped, we served ice cream cake instead of wedding cake. And, I’m extremely happy and relieved to report this: We had fun. Chris actually danced.

I broke more wedding traditions than I kept, and I can honestly say I had the time of my life. Literally and truly. (I planned it specifically so that the DJ played that song as the last one of the night.)

• Cooked! Several meals! which also meant that I: washed. dishes. all. weekend.
• Received an awesome surprise in the mail. I was making dinner (a sun-dried tomato, caramelized onion, spinach and gorgonzola pizza from a Weight Watchers recipe that I can’t find online, otherwise would link here) Friday night, waiting for Chris to arrive, when I sorted through the mail. Excitedly, I realized that I had received a small package, and was relieved to see that my wedding hair flower (or so I thought) had finally arrived. (After spending several weeks eying it, I finally ordered it, and then…realized I had placed an order for something made in Turkey. SO, it’s taking forever to arrive in the mail). And Friday I get this tiny package, with a strange, scrawled handwriting that I think is in another language….and instead, a tiny bubble-wrapped item falls out…my wedding band! I had no idea that the goldsmith who works at the Iowa Artisans Market in Iowa City was going to mail it to me when he was done (I thought he’d said we should come pick it up), AND I thought it would be mid-August before he was done. Not only did it arrive early, but…I love it. He did exactly what I/we asked him to do–create a simple but sturdy silver band, with a “hammered” design that almost resembles flowing water (hard to describe) and include an inscription inside. Thankfully, his “handwriting” was perfect inside the ring!
• Saturday: Went to a matinee. Enjoyed soaking up the AC, so it wasn’t all that disappointing that Horrible Bosses turned out to be pretty…horribly stupid. (And I’m definitely not above stupid movies. I laughed a lot at The Hangover, for example.) The Jennifer-Aniston-as-boss-who-sexually-harasses-her-employee bit was definitely over-the-top, but not actually funny.
• Watched another movie, The Adjustment Bureau, in which Matt Damon and Emily Blunt gave good performances, (and in which there were some good visuals), but in which I thought the basic premise was kinda sexist. (Hmm, a theme here.)
• Sunday: Invited my dad, who is bach’ing it for about 10 days, over for grilled burgers and corn on the cob. Made poor Chris do the grilling in the oppressive heat, (and, true to form, he didn’t complain or even say a word about it—while, meanwhile, I complained that the AC in the house wasn’t “wafting” enough from the window unit in the bedroom into the living/dining room, waah!) Enjoyed dinner together and cracking up at my dad’s stories, like the one about the time he accidentally maimed (very slightly) an exchange student with a ball-point pen when he was a student at WIU.
• Marveled at how laid-back and stationary this weekend felt, after lots and lots of driving around and wedding planning stuff over the past several weeks. Sunday marked the exactly-two-months-away mark for the big day. And we received our first wedding gift on Sunday, too! (A friend from my hometown gave us our first purchase on Traveler’s Joy, where we registered for our honeymoon. I’d long wondered if there was a way to make your honeymoon a gift suggestion, but worried that it might seem tacky or whatever, so it was cool to see someone not only give us approval, but a gift toward it too!)
• Dug further into The Little Friend by Donna Tartt, which is proving to be the most deliciously juicy fiction choice I could have chosen right now. What I mean by that is: I’ve been on a long string of non-fiction/memoir reading, and this is the first novel I’ve opened in a long time. A friend pressed it into my hands two or three years ago (and, in my defense, I did warn her that anyone who loans me a book runs the risk of not getting it back for a long, long time, because I’m slow reader and because I go in whatever order I choose, and if I happen to find something on sale at the bookstore that catches my eye, I’ll read that one, or something else, and maybe never get to the loaned book…). I had no idea what this book was about, and, as I often tend to do, I made a point to NOT read any of the back-cover copy, in an effort to go in totally uninformed and just let the fictional experience itself (rather than any quotes from well-known authors; reviews; etc.) influence me. And so far this book is so incredibly good, so rich in detail, with two young protagonists who bring notes of Scout and Dill to mind…. I just want to keep [sitting in front of the AC and] reading.

I just watched the most amazing movie: Get Low, starring Robert Duvall, Bill Murray, and Sissy Spacek.

First of all, how can you go wrong with those three in the cast? I especially loved Duvall and Murray’s performances–probably my favorite “serious” performance by Murray.

On top of that, it’s built from the nugget of a true story (and one of my favorite things in life is the prickle of excitement I get when hearing a true story that’s just as good as, if not better than, fiction.)

And to top it off, it turns out this is one of those underdog movies that took years to secure funding for, etc. –and the director who got it off the ground, Aaron Schneider, just happens to be from a small town in central Illinois.

I remember reading in the Peoria Journal-Star several years ago that a Peoria-area native was nominated for an Oscar for a short film he’d made. This story obviously stayed in my mind, but…yeah, short film. I didn’t see it.

Then, a year or so ago I saw another story in the PJ Star that the same guy had made a feature film, and I seemed to remember Duvall and Spacek being attached. But I had forgotten all about this when I went to the video store last night.

So it was pretty cool when I watched the DVD extras at the end, (still feeling spellbound by the beautiful movie I’d just watched, and Duvall’s performance especially), and there was a clip of a press junket with Duvall teasingly saying something to the director about “being from Peoria, Illinois.”

So I went a Googlin’ this morning to find that PJ Star article about Schneider making Get Low: here ya go. (Gotta love that picture of Schneider “teaching” Duvall how to shoot! (And oh…btw, Dunlap “counts” as Peoria, right?)

Even better, here’s a longer feature on Schneider’s getting the film off the ground, including the fact that he got the lead investment with the help of his high school prom date.

If you haven’t seen Get Low, which is part folk tale, part mystery, part love-story, part small-town rural-life tale, I honestly don’t think you can be disappointed if you check it out.

And it only adds to the film to know the back story about Schneider–yet another example of a wonderfully creative mind coming from a place known for bein’ backwards and stodgy.

If you’ve already seen Get Low, please leave my your thoughts below.

UPDATE: Mea culpa: As a certain unnamed reader helpfully pointed out, this entry below (originally published Oct. 3)—or at least its reference to a certain movie —is a bit of an anachronism, since the tower didn’t go up until the 00s. However, said reader, who also happens to be a longtime friend from my home stomping grounds, says, “I say we get a 12-pack and give it a try.”

Over the weekend, C-Nor and I took a walk around the hamlet of Ferris, Ill., which is about a stone’s throw from the farm where I grew up. (It’s just a few miles north of Carthage, Ill., and its young people have been bussed to the Carthage school system for many years.)

Chris took this picture of the water tower. As he was doing so, it struck me as surprising that, having grown up here in the 80s, in the era of the iconic teen movie, none of the bored teens (including me) ever felt inspired to climb atop it and paint the word “SAVE.”

(It would have been a lot cheaper and easier than emulating the movie by taking a day trip into Chicago, that’s for sure.)

Bueller? Anyone?

I finally got to see The Informant last weekend, after more than two years of waiting.

Why had I been waiting two years, you ask?

(Well, wouldn’t your interest have been piqued if your friend’s dad had plied his way onto the movie set with a box of donuts?

I think so.)

I worried that my viewing experience might suffer from all the hype, and from knowing too many details about the real-life story.

After all, I had been following the movie’s development for so long. I brought you news of Matt Damon hobnobbing with the local yokels on set in Decatur, IL. I wondered about local connections to the story via the Archer Daniels Midland (ADM) plant in nearby Bushnell, IL.) I listened, rapt, to the episode of This American Life that detailed the true story of Damon’s character, Mark Whitaker (the whistle-blower-on-corruption-who-oh-by-the-way-was-also-corrupt). I got regular updates from my friend about her dad’s attempts to somehow work his way into the movie.

So by the time I finally got to sit down and watch it on DVD, I was worried it might not live up to my expectations.

But it turned out I had no reason to worry. Not because of its portrayal of central Illinois life, or anything else I might have expected, but because Matt Damon was so great, and so believable, as the shifty yet somehow sympathetic guy. I even lost sight of the fact that it was Matt Damon after awhile, (which is really saying something for an indie-movie snob). The film also does a great job of giving you the bigger picture of the flabbergasting ease with which the ADM businessmen price-fixed on an international scale.

But the truly critical question about the movie, of course, is how did my friend’s dad fare?

Let me refresh you about why he plied his way onto the movie set with a box of donuts when he first heard that the film would be shooting on location in central Illinois.

Here’s a snippet from his interview with the Rushville (IL) Times:

“Farrar and his Camaro recently responded to calls for extras and travelled to Decatur where he was hired to appear as an extra in a scene. Farrar said he and one other man are in the background of the scene shot at a Decatur motel swimming pool with Damon and co-star Scott Bakula. Farrar’s Camaro also may make an appearance since the producers also needed vehicles from the early 1990s for the movie. “I really like doing this and getting into these movies,” said Farrar, who is retired from the City of Rushville. “It’s the best work I’ve ever done – a lot better than mowing yards.”
When first visiting with the casting agency for the job, Farrar said he took a box of doughnuts from Rogers Bakery in Rushville as a gift.
“They loved them,” he said. “They called me the doughnut guy.”

Sadly, it turns out my friend’s dad didn’t get his time in the spotlight. (Er, background.) His scene at that Decatur motel (described in the snippet above) was unfortunately cut from the film.

But his purple 1995 Camaro, which looks like this if you’re interested, fared much better.

It appears in the latter half of the film, just before the scene in which Damon’s character (starting to really crack) meets with a new lawyer or a reporter at a hotel (divulging a bunch more stuff he’s not supposed to). The camera shows the parking lot of the motel, and not only is the car clearly visible, but the camera hangs there for a good couple of seconds.

It was really quite a star turn. I got so excited I made C-Nor pause the DVD so we could go back and look at it again.

As far as Mr. Farrar goes, I’m sure he’s faring well. Here’s his final quote from the Rushville Times:

“I think that since there are just the two extras in the scene I could get mentioned in the credits, but it could end up on the cutting room floor with the other broken dreams.”

Have you seen the movie? What did you think? Do you know anything about local ties to the story via the Bushnell plant? Leave me a comment below.

So I finally got around to watching Public Enemies, the Michael Mann film based on John Dillinger, who robbed banks and became a kind of folk hero during the Great Depression.

I have to say, I don’t like watching violent movies, but I gave in to this one since

1. it’s historical,
2. it took place in the Midwest and Illinois in particular, and
3. …. okay, because it stars Johnny Depp.

And as my esteemed readers may remember, I’ve been interested in this film since I read/posted that story about a guy from nearby Galesburg, IL who is connected to the movie via a 1930s car.

So: I liked it. Three stars out of four, maybe. But the reason I’m blogging about it is this:

I couldn’t believe it, when it was over and the credits rolled, that there were three rather young, rather notable, rather…comely actors in the film who I hadn’t recognized at all. In other words,

1. Billy Crudup played J. Edgar Hoover. I mean, this is the same guy who played the rock star in Almost Famous! That guy played this guy! I was truly shocked when I saw his name listed as the actor playing Hoover. (All this is to say, that guy can act. And the make-up/costume people who made him look like ….well, not a rock star, they were good too, obviously.)
2. One of the main Dillinger cronies was played by Stephen Dorff. I have actually never seen anything with Stephen Dorff in it. But, here’s the deal: I kind of pride myself on recognizing actors in movies, especially the littler-known character actors. In other words, I am really annoying to watch TV and movies with. Because every time a new character comes on the screen, I’ll say to whoever I’m watching it with, “Well, hey, there’s Jane Adams from Happiness. I’m so happy to see her again.” Or, “Say, there’s the guy who used to play Chip on Kate & Ali.”
3. But the real kicker was the fact that one of the gangsters’ names that came up on the credits was Rory Cochran. I was like, “Wha? Where was he?” (The answer is that he had played one of the FBI guys under Melvin Purvis, played by Christian Bale.) For the uninitiated, Rory Cochran would be the guy that my friends and I, in high school, went around imitating for months and months after seeing him play a squinty-eyed, small-town stoner dude in Dazed and Confused. (He of “Are you cool, man?” fame.)

After I finished the movie, instead of thinking about gangsters and violence and history, I was more thinking about my own history and pop culture (and obsessions with the combination). Like, how could it be that this skinny, long-haired kid from Dazed could be this adult, round-faced guy with …wrinkles???

This triple shock of non-recognition makes me think one of two things.

I didn’t recognize any of these actors onscreen because

A) I have a tiny, crappy little TV and the screen was very dark throughout many of the scenes,

or,

B) I and the actors from my generation are getting round-faced and wrinkled and old.
(I like the former rather than the latter. How ’bout you?)

1. Catching up on movies.

• Extract — kinda disappointing. I love Jason Bateman, Kristen Wiig and Mike Judge. And Ben Affleck was funny as a cliched stoner dude. But it seemed to kind of fizzle rather than make a bang.
• Julie & Julia — loved it. Don’t see why the critics gave Amy Adams a hard time. Nora Ephron has become one of my new heroes over the last couple of years since I read two of her books, so I was a bit worried this might disappoint (by being too chick-flick-y.) Not the case. It was great.
• Paranormal Activity — points for going with the Blair Witch-style focus on “fear of the unknown” rather than “blood & guts galore.” Minus points for a kinda let-down-y ending. (Either way, C-Nor and I both admitted to being scared to venture into my dark stairway after watching.)
• It’s Complicated (tagged along w/ the p’s to that one). Too chick flick-y, too unrealistic, and too long, but otherwise funny (and kinda cool to see a middle aged woman [Streep] get to play sought-after sex symbol in a Hollywood film.) Alec Baldwin’s performance as a boob makes it worthwhile, too.

2. Reading.
Without a highlighter! And reading fiction! Ah, it felt fantastic. With the cat curled up on my lap, buried under the Snuggie (which, I’m sorry to have to say, since it was a gift from my Little, is kind of annoying rather than comforting– I can never find the damn sleeves and it’s hard to walk around in without tangling yourself up and tripping over your Snuggie’d feet), I managed to get time to finish:

• The Abstinence Teacher by Tom Perrotta. Absolutely loved it. Have been dying to get to it ever since finishing Little Children. I continue to marvel at Perrotta’s ability to write quality, accessible, funny fiction. Literary fiction that comes off as pure entertainment.

• Love is a Mixtape by Rob Sheffield. His writing in Rolling Stone sizzles and crackles and zings with awesomeness. The book doesn’t quite do that, but partly because of its subject matter: it’s a eulogy and love letter to both the wife he lost in the 90′s, and to the 90′s themselves.

3. Wii-ing.
Playing bowling and ski slalom on the Wii, doing yoga and my two fave options on the Wii Fit Plus: the ski jump and the Super Hula Hoop. Man. Never thought I could sweat so much playing a computer.

4. Cooking.
Actually using the burners on the stove. (Okay so I only cooked one night. But still, points, please. Texas Black Bean Soup — zero points on Weight Watchers!)

5. Driving.

To Springfield to have Christmas w/ my sister and her family.

To Carthage to spend Christmas Eve w/ the p’s.

To the QC’s to spend Xmas Day w/ C-Nor and his p’s.

Back to Macomb to take care of my cat.

Back to the QC’s to be with C-Nor.

Back to Macomb to spend NYE w/ friends. (Who, btw, beat my ass at SuperMario Wii. I’m totally uncoordinated to begin w/, and the Miller Lite Lime Cactus was not helping.)

Phew. Thankfully I didn’t have to struggle too much with the winter weather. But there was quite a bit of driving in this.

In Conclusion and In Sum
It was luxurious to get to spend time w/ C-Nor (more than 2 days in a row!); to be with family; to soak in some pop culture; to ring in the New Year with some of my oldest friends; to not have to study or write papers; to be off work.

I tried to consciously be thankful for the time off—in other words to remember having to be right back in the newsroom on Dec. 26 to cover those critical First Baby of the New Year and Shoppers Hit Stores for After Christmas Bargains stories.

News business, I sometimes miss you, but this time of year is not one of those times.

Those of you who know me, or who just stop by this blog every now and then, know that I have long complained about the lack of movie-going options in Macomb.

And then, lo and behold, in the midst of my complaining, news trickled out a few months ago that a new theater, (despite years and years of rumors), really was (is!) coming to town!

There was a time, when I lived closer to the Cinemas in Davenport and (the several options in) Peoria, (and when I wasn’t trying to take graduate courses, and when I wasn’t also trying to save money), that I used to go see a new movie whenever I wanted.

Like, all the time.

Whatever the most rave-reviewed, little-indie-that-could, or Oscar-contender I was anxious to see, I just headed out and got to see it when it was brand new, whenever I wanted to.

Now, I rarely go to the theataaaah.

But in honor of this new development in Macomb, and of my b-day coming up, I think I should allow myself the indulgence of a new film or two this summer, don’t you?

I mean, a girl needs to stay connected to the best arthouse offerings of her day, no?

SO, here’s hoping Will Ferrell and Sleestaks make it to Macomb! Cross your fingers for me.