Ravings of a Textual Deviant

I’m driving my friend who’s doing my wedding flowers nuts.

No, not on purpose. Though I’m told the fact that it isn’t on purpose doesn’t help. I want to apologize again, anyway.

I know very little about flowers, and even less about aranging them. I didn’t have a clear idea of what colors I wanted, let alone the kinds of flowers. I don’t like to micromanage, and I have always thought that the benefit of hiring a professional is to have access to knowledge and expertise. I tried not to give a lot of direction. Actually, I gave very little direction, and that was vague and high-level.

However, it looks like I am going to have to make some actual specific decisions, and in aid of that I have been given homework. I am to look at the pretty pictures in the big book and point at what I like. Most of what I like turns out to be yellow, so although I had originally (pretty much at random) chosen blue, purple and pink, I think I am going to end up changing my mind.

And in so doing, probably driving my friend even crazier. For which I apologize, again.

I’m a floridiot.

I’m starting to think that Minx’s extreme haircut may have been the best thing that’s happened to him in a long time. We’d noticed that he had dry, flaky skin before, but post-trim, it was obvious exactly how much dry flaky skin he had. So, on the vet-tech’s recommendation, we started feeding him a vitamin supplement (a thick, goopy liquid that goes on the food; giving him pills would be a losing proposition for all concerned).

We’ve been feeding him very high-quality food (one of the few brands not affected by the melamine problem), so it never occurred to me that his condition might be nutritional. Magnus eats the same food, and hasn’t had any problems. I just chalked it up to the fact that Minx is thirteen, and slowing down some with age.

However, I am amazed at the difference a little nutrient goop makes. Not only has his skin improved dramatically, so has the condition of his fur, which gives me high hopes that perhaps we’ll be able to help him stay detangled when it all grows back. What’s more, he’s got a lot more energy and is more playful than he’s been in years, according to Fiancé. He’s tearing around the house the way Magnus does, has renewed interest in his milk-jug rings, and even played a rousing game of hide-and-seek/monster-under-the-covers with me as I was changing the sheets a couple of days ago. He seems happier; not that he seemed depressed, the way he did before we got him a pet (Magnus). He’s a lot more interested in interacting with his housemonkeys, too.

With humans, it’s blindingly obvious; nutrition is so key to not only to physical health but to mental health…as any vegetarian with a B12 deficiency can tell you. In retrospect, I feel as though I ought to have figured it out; the first thing I ask someone when they tell me they don’t feel well is “what are you eating.”

Neil Gaiman co-directed this film, which is based on his novel of the same name. I’ve read the book, but it was so long ago that only only remembered the bare bones of the plot. If memory serves–and I’m not claiming it does—the film improves upon the book by allowing Gaiman to flesh out supporting characters and add tons of lush detail to the settings. Visually, the film is absolutely stunning, much in the way that the recent Narnia film was. The music is also fantastic, and does what a soundtrack ought to—enhance the story without being obtrusive.

The acting is also delightful; it’s a fairy tale (albeit very much not a Disney version) and we expect archetypes. Like so much of Gaiman’s work, we get them, but with a twist. The entire cast seemed to really enjoy their work, and Michelle Pfeiffer is outstanding as the wickedest witch you’d never want to meet. Claire Danes, as Yvaine, delivers snarky lines with all the sarcasm and derision one would expect from an alumna of My So-Called Life. (”I was perfectly fine here until I was hit by a magical flying MORON!”)

I could rave for hours about the script, the cinematography, set design, the costumes, the props, the effects, and so on, but I can’t do justice to it, and frankly, seeing the movie is a better use of your time anyway.

“But what about the prince?”

“Doll, with your voice, you’ll be a star. You’ll have a career. Sign with me, and the prince will throw himself at your feet. Uh, fins. Princes, kings, emperors, even movie stars.”

“Would I be able to see my father and sisters?”

“Yeah, between gigs, no problem. For you, we will even guarantee front-row seats for them. At, uh, coastal venues.”

“And what do you want in exchange?”

“Ten percent is industry standard.”

Melusine examined the contract.

“It’s a hell of a lot better than the deal my idiot sister made. Where do I sign?”

Q: What do you get when you combine a Celtic quartet without percussion with, as one band member puts it, the only working Celtic band without either a fiddler or a whistle player?

A: A version of Lorena McKennitt’s “Mummer’s Dance” that raises goosebumps. It was that good.

Six Women and a Giraffe was a smashing success; two great bands that sound even better together. Alair and Wild Mercy, either of which is always worth the cost of admission, combine to form a truly formidable septet. Harpist Jen Midkiff is the bridge between the two groups, and while it makes a long night for her, I hope that the recent joint concert is only the first of many.

Take my word for it; you do NOT want to miss the next one…and I will use my elbows to make sure I’m ahead of you in the ticket line.

Me: It’s fun to be in my head.

M: I’d hate to think you were trapped in there.

I’m taking the week off.

Magnus: Are you sure about this?

Minx: Just set it on “fluff” and push the damned button.

In which Minx parts with the rest of his kitty dreadlocks.

The indignity of it is too much…leg warmers. How 1985.

A catalyst?