Girl Detective

Yesterday it rained, so I took 5yo Drake and 2.5 yo Guppy bowling. They had a great time. Can you tell?

I’ve read and watched a lot of tragedies lately, so I was in the mood for a comedy. Burn After Reading, by the Coen Brothers, did the job. Brad Pitt gave an especially funny, physical performance. The film’s aftertaste is bitter–there was a lot of violence, the frequency and vehemence of the cursing began to wear, and John Malkovich was perhaps a little too scary and intense. While Burn After Reading is far from a feel-good comedy, it did make me laugh, many times. That felt good.

Me, to friends, as I scattered chunks of cheddar cheese over my vanilla ice cream and apple pie:

I’m not sure this is a good idea, but I’m going to do it anyway.

That sentence covers a lot of my life. Though the cheddar cheese idea turned out OK, most other things I’ve said this about have not.

I’m just going to assume that I’ve had at least 500 memos over my 40 years, and start with 501, like the classic jean. Memos to Self are my hopeful attempt to analyze recent mistakes so as not to make them again. Usually, enough time passes that I forget, so maybe writing them down will aid my memory.

Memo to Self #501: Plan ahead for kid vacation weeks. Sudden, increased togetherness for me and the boys, which is already at a peak, results in stress, not bonding. Babysitters, playdates, and planned activities would have helped.

Strangely (or not) my husband G. Grod and I did not have this problem when we went away for a mini break, the weekend before last. Sudden, increased togetherness resulted in increased relaxation and happiness. Go figure.

Coming in April 2009, Raskol, a new musical, written by Kira Obolensky, a production of Ten Thousand Things, based on Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment! With a jazz score, the winner of TTT’s first Playwrighting Challenge will take a fresh look at Raskolnikov’s guilty struggles.

Directed by Michelle Hensley. Music by Peter Vitale. With Kris Nelson, Luverne Seifert, Craig Johnson, Karen Weise-Thompson, Lisa Clair, Tracey Maloney and Charles Schuminski.
April 23 - May 24, 2009

Julie Taymor, who did a stunning adaptation of the harrowing Titus Andronicus, is set to adapt Shakespeare’s The Tempest for film. Russell Brand, of Forgetting Sarah Marshall, is set to play the drunken clown Trinculo.

You’ll never guess who’s going to play Prospero.

Can’t wait. Even if it’s a mess, it’ll be a gorgeous one. (Link from Entertainment Weekly)

There are several promising plays here, or coming soon to, the Twin Cities of Minnesota. Distracted closes soon, and Twelfth Night tickets are going fast, so don’t dawdle.

Distracted, a play about ADHD, at the Mixed Blood Theatre through October 19, 2008.

A View from the Bridge, by Arthur Miller, at the Guthrie through November 8, 2008.

MacBeth, at the Torch Theater, starring Stacia Rice and Sean Haberle, whose chemistry in the Guthrie’s Jane Eyre earlier this year made it worth watching.

Twelfth Night, an all-female production from Ten Thousand Things, with performances at Open Book.

Frost/Nixon, Spring Awakening and other Broadway hits, playing in the Hennepin Theatre District
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At the Times Online, A.N. Wilson reviews the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams’, DOSTOEVSKY: Language, Faith and Fiction, a combination of literary criticism and historical theology.

Link from Arts & Letters Daily.

Pevear and Volokhonsky’s Crime and Punishment is an accessible translation of the original criminal psychology novel, as well as an homage to Hamlet and a social commentary. It has a troubled hero, his kind friend, a hooker with a heart of gold, a savvy detective, a suitably creepy villain and so much more. Loved it; read this book!

About the translation: I read this for book group. Those of us who read the Pevear/Volokhonsky translation really enjoyed the book and found it relatively easy to read. The readers of the Norton and Signet editions found the book dense and difficult.

My reading list has of late been lacking in mirth. Time for a comedy or romance, methinks.

Bring your plastics to the Eastside Food Coop for recycling on Saturdays (today!) from 10am to 2pm, and on Thursday afternoon and evenings, 3:30pmto 7:30pm.

Rain Taxi’s Book Fest is today. I may head out to see Jess Winfield at 3:30 p.m., author of My Name is Will: A Novel of Sex, Drugs, and Shakespeare

2.5yo Guppy and I are off to the doctor’s office to get a strep culture. Never had to do it with 5yo Drake. It helps much that Guppy clearly is in pain as he swallows, and says his mouth hurts. Whenever Drake was sick as a toddler, he would just scream and scream and refuse to let anyone get near him.

One of my favorite memories of childhood is the time my dad decided to do the strep cultures for my sisters and me at home. He did the swabs, touched them to the red stuff in the plastic dishes, then my mother put them in a low oven to develop.

And forgot them. Till the house smelled bad, and she had three melted strep cultures all over her oven.

I’m sure my mom didn’t think it was funny, but I did.

Normally autumn, with its launch of the television season here in the US, is one of my favorite times of the year. I devour the Entertainment Weekly guide to fall TV, reading it to tatters, then carefully plot out what I’m going to watch, and how, since our Tivo can “only” record two shows at a time. This year, however, was different. Perhaps the quality of shows took too big of a hit with the writers strike earlier this year. Perhaps I’ve simply reached my allowable tolerance for only-OK television. In any case, my interest is failing fast.

I canceled the season pass for Dirty Sexy Money before the season even began. I’ve dropped Heroes and Sarah Connor: Terminator. I’m waiting to hear how the Mentalist is; the premiere was good, Simon Baker is very good, but I’m tired of watching shows that are only OK except for one thing: Life for Damian Lewis, Bones for the witty banter, the overcrowded House for what Hugh Laurie is going to do or say next. When I look at my Tivo to-do list, I find only a few shows that I consider A-list: Mad Men, Project Runway, the Office, and 30 Rock. I’d add How I Met Your Mother, only it’s wildly uneven, and last night’s was really lame.

I’m highly dependent on, and grateful for, the tv critiques of Alan Sepinwall. He likes the good stuff, and is intolerant of the mediocre and bad stuff. He’s about to give up on Heroes:

Like Peter, I think you really have to be able to turn your brain off to enjoy “Heroes” these days, and unfortunately, I don’t have that ability… er, power. (Gah!)

And he goggles that one of the two reasons he still watches Terminator is because of former 90210er Brian Austin Green:

He’s gone from squeaky-voiced “Beverly Hills 90210″ fifth wheel (did anyone at any point watch that show for David Silver?) to convincing bad-ass, and, along with Summer Glau, the reason I remain engaged by a show that’s otherwise just slightly better than mediocre.

Sepinwall is a reliable indicator to me of what to watch, and what to avoid. I’ve got about 110 pages of Crime and Punishment to go for my book group this week, and I’m giving the B shows the boot so I can finish it. Will I watch them again? Who knows. But I’m rather looking forward to the increase in free time. I’ve let TV become a chore, and that’s just wrong.

This morning, 5yo Drake woke up complaining of stomach pain. He skipped dinner last night, so I knew what to expect. I gave him only a little water, and he threw up for the next few hours. I think he’s got mild ketotic hypoglycemia, which recurs because he’s such a picky, stubborn eater who skips meals.

Then 2.5yo Guppy whipped off his diaper, flinging poop on the floor. When I cleaned it, and him, up, he threw a 20-minute tantrum while I tried to deal with barfy Drake.

Finally, when I wasn’t looking, Guppy started throwing puzzle pieces in Drake’s barf bucket.

Am I on a sitcom? Insult to injury doesn’t even come close.

In anticipation of November’s cumbersomely titled Quantum of Solace, my husband G. Grod and I revisited the James Bond reboot, Casino Royale. Like the Bourne movies and The Dark Knight, Casino is both well done and entertaining, with a dark, complex, brooding main character. At over two hours, it’s too long; the poker scenes go on. And on. But it’s that rare action movie that has brains to back up its brawn.

The opening credits for Casino Royale and AMC’s Mad Men are strikingly similar, with their heroes in silhouette. They were not done by the same people. Casino Royale’s was done by Daniel Kleinman, for UK-based Framestore CFC. Mad Men’s opening sequence was designed by Mark Gardner and Steve Fuller of design firm, Imaginary Forces.

The triumph of self-preservation, the rescue from overwhelming danger–that was what filled his entire being at the moment, with no foresight, no analysis, no future riddling and unriddling, no doubts or questions. It was a moment of complete, spontaneous, purely animal joy.

Raskolnikov, from Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment

G. Grod and I married one another ten years ago on Friday, on the fifty-somethingth floor of a building in downtown Philadelphia named after a bank that no longer exists. Our family and friends helped us marry one another, and it was a lovely evening.

To celebrate, my sister Sydney is working overtime, and flew my parents out to watch 5yo Drake and 2.5yo Guppy so G. and I could drive up to Grand Marais, on the north shore of MN on Lake Superior. G and I have walked, shopped, napped, eaten very well, read a lot, and enjoyed each others’ company. We watched the sun rise over the lake this morning. I feel very happy, and grateful, this morning.

(I’m reading Dostoevsky for my book group. It is not an ironic commentary on marriage. At least, not intentionally. Heh. G. is reading Infinite Jest. Interpret as you will.)

At the Chronicle of Higher Education, Christopher Shea looks into the rise of Experimental Philosophy:

At the heart of experimental philosophy lies a suspicion of so-called “intuitions.” An intuition in philosophy is something far more potent than it is in ordinary discourse….The trustworthiness of intuitions (whose roots can be traced back to Plato and Socrates, who thought they represented glimpses of the true, ideal world usually hidden from us) hardly goes undebated by traditional philosophers – quite the opposite – but the experimental philosophers apply a new kind of pressure. They think that by studying human minds, using empirical techniques, and drawing on the insights of modern psychological science, they can get a better sense of where intuitions come from, and whether or when they should be granted credence.

Link from Arts & Letters Daily.