Isis am Legend

I can’t really write anything about “I am Legend” without ruining it for those who haven’t seen it.

I tried to review it on Facebook yesterday, or maybe it was the day before, and for some reason, it wasn’t in Facebook’s database. This has since been remedied, but I’ve hardly had time to Facebook the past couple of days, because I’m designing a magazine, which goes really fast for the first day, and then I spend two weeks moving columns two clicks to the left and making that one picture smaller and that other one bigger and for some reason it takes me 8 hours to get it right.

It’s superfun.

Back to “I am Legend,” though. It may well be that everyone in the world knows more about it than I did going in, because all I knew was that “The last man on earth is not alone,” and he is Will Smith and his dog looks like my dog and they have flashbacks showing that dog as a puppy. That was all I needed to know, really. (Sorry if you didn’t know that much and I’ve ruined the movie for you.)

Sorry also, if it ruins it for you to learn that the movie is based on a novel of the same name, which has been twice before made into a movie. One starring Vincent Price and one starring Charlton Heston.

I knew it was based on a book, but didn’t realize it was a book from the 1950s, and therefore quite different than the current movie. A little disappointing, because as I was watching it, I thought I’d probably like a book that goes into more depth about the Last Man On Earth’s interior monologue. Stuff he couldn’t say to his dog out loud, because it would sound dumb in a movie. Turns out the book is actually fairly short, and doesn’t seem to go into depth about much of anything. I’m near the end of disc 2 (of 4) of the audiobook, and he hasn’t even met the dog yet.

So go see it. It’s scary. And then donate blood. I did. Only because the blood center is next to the movie theater, and maybe because Will Smith draws a couple of vials of blood in the movie.

Treedition

We drove out to the tree farm with Isis on Saturday, parked and got her all harnessed up before we saw the “No dogs please” sign. So we got back in the car, drove and drove and drove, passed a little farm with cookie-cutter perfect trees, but kept going until we got to a place that felt right.

Dunno why we consider it necessary to bring the dog, except that dealing with her is a good excuse for my not helping with the sawing.

Evidently the saw we brought was too dull, so Isis and I walked back to the front of the farm to borrow one of theirs. Guess 7-foot Noble firs have pretty thick trunks.

Huh. Looked thicker in person. It’s a beautiful tree. And big. Must be 4 feet across, at least.

Family portrait in front of the decorated tree to come.

Changing tactics

If anyone’s wondering, my last effort at Weight Watching was a miserable failure. I weighed the same this morning as I did when I decided to go back.

I don’t know why I can’t do it this time, unless it has something to do with living with a dude (so not only have I stopped worrying about attracting one, but he’s a terrible influence) and/or my 32-year-old metabolism.

Then there’s my tendency to develop new, fattening addictions such as egg nog chai lattes. I’m not in the habit of getting high-calorie coffee drinks every day, and yet, for about two weeks, I was planning my day around which coffee hut I would drive through to score my sugary fix. And then I’d be all, “Can you cut the superfatty egg nog with nonfat milk?”

Today, I bought some egg nog chai mix at the co-op…a much lower calorie, non-fat version of the delicacy, so I’m sure that will make a huge difference in my ability to lose weight this holiday season.

Another thrilling development is the new candy machine in my office. Some dude raising money for children’s cancer research dropped it off yesterday. Bear with me here, this is good. I can’t mindlessly eat M&Ms like I used to when my boss kept a jar on his desk right outside my office (three or four jobs ago). Oh, no, I have to find a quarter and think about what I’m doing as I twist the knob to get 6 M&Ms. This is accountability.

A bliss of another kind

The patient has stabilized. I went to Seattle last night to see Tori again, and order was restored to the universe.

I was even able to remember a few highlights from Monday evening:

  • The dude sitting next to me (not Rob) sobbing uncontrollably during “Winter,” which she performed beautifully. I mean, sure I cried when my friend danced to that with her father at her wedding, but this dude must have really been going through some stuff, you know?
  • Listening to “Bliss,” and thinking about how it was the first song I ever bought on the Internet. On my mom’s computer one morning after acting class. I didn’t live at home by then, but my Mac Color Classic wasn’t equipped for such tasks. I played that song over and over and over at my Mom’s. And then I looked up the lyrics.

It’s fair to say that I enjoyed last night’s show more. Having nothing to do, I’m sure, with the lemongrass lime rickey I drank with dinner at Dragonfish.

She opened as “Pip,” which would have been my last choice, but she really rocked the house, as far as I could tell from Row W (actually fourth from the very last row). She sang a lot of songs that I might not have requested, but they sounded wonderful. Even a cover of “Heart of Gold” that I usually skip over on her covers CD. She played my favorite from that album, though: “Rattlesnakes.” And “Smells like teen spirit.” Oh yeah, I’m in Seattle, duh. And one of four numbers during the encores was the Monkees’ “I’m a Believer.”

She closed with “Tear in your hand.” Beautiful.

Best of all, my car was right where I left it. Although it took me longer to get out of the parking garage than it did for us to retrieve my car from the impound lot on Monday.

Giving the experience

I like the idea of giving gift cards, except for two things. One, the recipient knows how much you spent. Two, you can buy the things at the grocery store.

Everyone likes getting them, so I can get over the lack of imagination shown by giving them. But I don’t like the lack of effort that is conveyed by giving something I grabbed next to the checkout line while buying breakfast cereal.

So I let crazy take a spin

Hmm. Well. Where to begin.

Took Rob to a Tori Amos concert across the border yesterday. Was sort of disappointed in my dinner at the Indian restaurant, sort of disappointed in the concert (I know, I know), and was downright vitriolic about having my car towed. (We were at a meter that turned into a taxi zone from 8 p.m.-4 a.m. Fri – Mon. I foolishly interpreted this as 4 a.m. Monday.)

Here’s the nutjob thing about it. I’m buying a ticket for tomorrow’s show in Seattle off Craigslist. To drive to in hideous traffic and attend by myself. Not to mention the stress of connecting with a stranger to get said ticket.

It’s likely to be a completely different show (although probably she’ll still wear that ill-fitting gold jumpsuit during the second half), and I need to shake the bad vibes from last night.

How to explain my disappointment in the show? She’s playing these characters on her latest album, which I already found a bit weird. The first half of the show is performed by one of these characters and the second half by “Tori.” Last night, she was “Santa” in a white Carol Channing wig. I wasn’t digging it.

Hoping that, at the least, she’ll be playing a different role tomorrow.