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[May. 29th, 2007|09:54 pm]
I'm feeling disinclined to post (or write, really) lately, but to keep the backlog from getting too big:

Little brother's graduation on Saturday. Picked up my grandmother at 8, headed down to the Denver Performing Arts Center. They moved the Speer Blvd. exit ramp on me, but we still got there right on time. It was a little bit long (although each individual bit was short, which was helped) and, well, it was a high-school graduation. Mostly for the benefit of the graduates. I tried not to be overly curmudgeonly, and mostly succeeded.

After visiting with family for a while, took Grandma home. We went by the cemetery to visit my father's and grandfather's graves on the way, so I actually observed Memorial Day this year. It made me kinda melancholy.

The flowers were blooming in my grandmother's garden, so she had me cut a couple and bring them home. I got a giant peony and a few California poppies. I will never be a great gardener because I hate cutting plants that seems perfectly happy as they are. But I brought them home and stuck them in a vase. The poppies still close up at night and open in the morning, which is cool. (They have to live in the office, because Greg is apparently very allergic to them.) I also found out that Grandma has a trunk in her washroom that has her kids' old teddy bears. She planned to make a shadowbox with them, but hasn't gotten around to them. Dad's is named Tirtir.

Sunday we did nothing much with the day, and went to Kate's in the evening for Slayerfest. It was kinda low-key -- nobody there but us and a coworker of hers plus spouse -- and I had a fine time. We skewered and grilled things, and it was a lovely, lovely dinner. Even with pretty minimal seasoning, grilled food is yum.

Yesterday we did more nothing, then drove down to Denver to meet tdjohnson and rlegters for dinner. (They were in town for a gay squaredancing convention.) They are really great guys, I was unsurprised to learn. I love meeting people in person. It's a shame they don't live closer.

Somewhere in there we watched The Prestige, which was not bad. I liked The Illusionist better. There were some nice symmetries in the story, and David Bowie makes an excellent Nikola Tesla, but overall the story was a bit too grim and people-being-awful-to-one-another for my taste.

This afternoon it stormed pretty impressively. I saw a series of lightning flashes that lasted for a second or so -- long enough for me to catch it out of my peripheral vision and then look over and see it. The skies opened, and it rained, hard. Fifteen minutes later, it was done.

After work today, drove down to Arvada to visit with Jerry's parents, who are in town, at his aun'ts house. She has a rottweiler named Sheba (with unclipped tail, which kept me from identifying her breed until Greg pointed it out) and I realized that they have brown eyebrows spots that are right where the beauty marks would be if she were a Japanese princess instead of a dog.

Yeah, that's probably rambling and eclectic enough to be a post.

[User Picture]From: melted_snowball
2007-05-30 10:50 am (UTC)
*wistful sigh* I wish we had gay squaredancing here.
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[User Picture]From: zalena
2007-05-30 01:58 pm (UTC)
I hated the Illusionist because I had it all figured out shortly after the death of the girl. (Oh, obviously, they're borrowing a plot from Shakespeare!) After that the movie was boring while I waited for everyone else to figure it out.

The Prestige had a much higher ook! level, but was a more interesting film, narratively, for longer. I also figured it out long before the end of the film, but found I was more interested in what happened as a result. (Although they did kind of drag out the last 20-40 minutes.)

See my post on the movies for further criticism, particularly of Scarlett Johansson's performance.

I'm always surprised that the life of Tesla isn't better known, particularly his time here in CO. I think one could write a fabulous book about Europeans in the New World, (specifically Europeans coming West) and write about Dvorak, Wilde, Tesla, etc. and their experiences in the Western landscape.

Why is it that 19C is filled w/tales of American's going to Europe, but so few books are about European's coming West?
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