The Hunger Games

The movie comes out Friday.  I have mixed feelings and am going to sound terribly snobby or snooty or something in the next few sentences. I guess it's better that I admit it?  I'll back up a bit. The Hunger Games is a trilogy of books for young adults (I realize that no, this is not me, but I don't care) taking place in a dystopian world separated into districts. Every year, each district elects a male and female child/teenage "tribute" to participate in the hunger games--the winner's district is provided with all kinds of resources. In a world where food and basic essentials are scarce, this is a big deal. The catch is that the tributes play the game to the death. In order to win, you have to be the last one alive.  Of course, the games are televised, with everyone absolutely enraptured by the spectacle. Twisted? Yeah. Far from reality? Not as much as you might think.

So anyway, I read the book in 2009, long before the rest of the world realized how great they were (this is the snooty part). Part of me really, really despises being on a bandwagon; I've always been an underdog rooter (ask me how great of a strategy that was in this year's NCAA basketball bracket challenge). Another part of me is glad the books caught on so I have the chance to see what a filmmaker does with them. The other advantage of the trilogy's success is that young adult authors everywhere are doing their best to replicate them, providing me with plenty of dystopian worlds to delve into. 

So the bottom line is, I won't be in the theaters at 12:01am Friday to catch the first screening, but I also won't wait for the DVD. Walking contradiction? You bet!

Peanut Butter Pie

Peanut butter plays a big role in our household. The dog devours his peanut butter based treats and gets a Kong of the good stuff if we leave the house for extended periods of time. One of Simon's favorite snacks is a PB-smothered, toasted English muffin, and my favorite summertime treat is Vanilla Hagen Daas ice cream topped with melted Skippy Natural. It's indulgent and a bit ridiculous, but boy is it good.

I was itching to try a peanut butter based dessert recipe, and came across this one for individual peanut butter pies. I figured making small versions of something so rich would help make it a teensy bit less sinful. Poor logic. They're really delicious, and I forced myself to bring a couple to work, so I wouldn't go nuts (pun intended) gorging on them at home.  Words of advice: whip this up sometime, but try not to look at the ingredients when you do. Eeek.

Meeting Yet Another Merwin

We took a little jaunt south on Friday night to visit my brother in New Haven, CT.  Pete is working on getting his Masters in Sculpture and just finished installing his thesis show, so we took a look at that and also experienced his studio, a really amazing space he's crafted into his own zone of artistic mayhem.  It's very him, and he explained that most of the things he has in there are found items--from pieces of his artwork to his furniture, rugs, and tools.  It was pretty awesome and a world totally different than my own--when I need something, I check Target before I scour the streets.

We finished up our visit at the Caseus Fromagerie and Bistro, a scrumptious French restaurant on the outskirts of Yale's campus.  Highlights included to-die-for French onion soup, one of my favorites, as well as the grilled cheese, which was nearly a pound of melty cheeses nestled between thick, rustic slices of bread. Yum.

On our way back to Pete's studio, we passed this art shop.  The shop is most certainly named after the dog. Simply no other explanation.

Thesis Assistant

I'll read the thing once it's completed but as Simon pointed out when I edited one of his loooonnnggggg papers last semester, I make lots of thoughtful edits in the beginning, and then slowly the edits dwindle, marking my apparent fading interest.  So it's a good thing Merwin is playing this advisory role in articulating the effects of globalization on Liberian philanthropy.  He runs to the door expecting guests when a doorbell rings on TV, but this, my friends, is when he really shines.

A Poem for a Monday

River

Pat Schneider

A delicate fuzz of fog,
like mold, or moss,
all across the river
in this early light.
Another day, I might
have still been sleeping.

What a pity. How the stars
and seas and rivers
in their fragile lace of fog
go on without us
morning after morning,
year after year.
And we disappear.

Crazy, isn't it? It's hard to believe that everything we see, things as majestic as sunrises and things as ordinary as the 86 bus rolling across town, will go on without us. I suppose it is both crazy and simply obvious, yet the poem describes the moment beautifully--a moment of realization and appreciation for earth, for life.

Count the dogs

You can do it.  How many dogs do you see?  Please ignore the state of the living room, but if you've counted correctly, you'll see three dogs, a tidy excuse for three times the mess.  We dog-sat last night for friends and experienced quite the comedy show with these hooligans.  One gets up, they all get up.  One barks at a noise, they all chime in.  One follows Simon to the other room, the others are right on his heels.  But it's also three times the cuteness and cuddly-ness.  Certainly can't complain about that.

Boston vs. New York, Round 2

This is a bit more literal than my first post on this subject since my New York Rangers face off versus Boston's Bruins this evening at 7pm.  What did you say?  Did you ask if I'm going to the game?  Well, duh!  Believe it or not, they only come up this way twice a year and I almost always have to work during one of the games so tonight is my chance.  I'm so super duper excited that everything seems to be tinged with True Blue today.  It doesn't hurt that we totally splurged for tickets and are sitting in the 11th row directly next to where the Rangers emerge from their locker room and enter the ice.  Cross your fingers for a win (and that I don't get hounded by misled New Englanders accidentally rooting for the wrong side).

A Poem for a Monday

                                                                                        Nightsong

                                                                                        Philip Booth

   Beside you,
   lying down at dark,
   my waking fits your sleep.

   Your turning
   flares the slow-banked fire
   between our mingled feet,

   and there,
   curved close and warm
   against the nape of love,

   held there,
   who holds your dreaming
   shape, I matched my breathing

   to your breath;
   and sightless, keep my hand
   on your heart's breast, keep

   nightwatch
   on your sleep to prove
                                                                                        there is no dark, nor death.

Ever Have Days Like This?

The difference is, the hamster looks totally pumped to be going around and around and around, pumping his little legs on the road to nowhere.      

To the Dust of the Road

W.S. Merwin

And in the morning you are up again

with the way leading through you for a while

longer if the wind is motionless when

the cars reach where the asphalt ends a mile

or so below the main road and the wave

you rise into is different every time

and you are one with it until you have

made your way up to the top of your climb

and brightened in that moment of that day

and then you turn as when you rose before

in fire or wind from the ends of the earth

to pause here and you seem to drift away

on into nothing to lie down once more

until another breath brings you to birth

Addicted to Travel

Molokai, Hawaii

I'm addicted to traveling.  I'm certainly not the first person this has happened to, but scouting out destinations, selecting itineraries and hotels, and exploring new places is such a thrill.  I have a lengthy list of desirable destinations, which includes just about everywhere on this planet (and maybe intergalactic travel someday...).  I'm constantly in awe of landscapes--Tuscany's rolling hills, the jagged mountains of western America, and Caribbean-blue waters with gleaming beaches--which tends to drive my selection of vacation spots. 

I guess I'm thinking about all of this now because we recently booked a summer trip to Barcelona and Southern France and are contemplating a cruise/land journey through Alaska with family in 2013.  A friend just returned from Zimbabwe, my mother-in-law landed at Logan tanned and relaxed after a month on Bequia, and another friend is getting married in Italy this fall.  Travel is in the air!