Brokeback, I wish I knew how to quit you.

Okay, it's true, I was predisposed to love this movie. I am all about repressed, unrequited, doomed love. I have seen Zefferelli's Romeo and Juliet countless times since I was eight years old. I am still haunted by the English Patient. Just about my favorite five seconds in all of cinema is the scene in the corridor in The Remains of the Day, when you can see Anthony Hopkins is in a life or death struggle to keep from reaching out and touching Emma Thompson on the cheek, but then he gets a hold of himself and doesn't, and never comes even close again for the rest of his miserable life. I played it for my husband the other night, but after rewinding it several times for him, it was still lost on him.

I have two favorite genres in film: the hero's journey, which could be summed up as "become what you are". Think Aragorn in Lord of the Rings. Or Joe vs. the Volcano. The other includes movies wound so tight with emotional tension they might crack. Where the dialogue is all subtle and terse, and preferably spoken in the Queen's english. Where for a minute something almost happens, but then it doesn't. (Patrick would add, "and then it rains frogs.")

Apart from lacking British accents, Brokeback Mountain is my perfect storm. I watched the trailer twenty times waiting for it to get here. I saw it the very first weekend when it finally did. I just downloaded the soundtrack from Itunes. I am seriously thinking about going to see it at a different theatre tomorrow afternoon. I am obsessed. That ole Brokeback got me good.

filed under: randomthoughts

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Stale

Went out on the town with a girlfriend last night. We started out with a couple of glasses of Sofia and some good conversation. I really should have called it a night right there. As it was, my friend is newly single, and we were out to "make the scene," so I hung in there through several pit-stops. But I was through before midnight. As in, get me the hell out of this place and away from these people or I will set myself on fire. So much for making the scene. Making a scene, perhaps.

I loved being with my friend and we did run into some people we know and like but as for the rest, bleah. Expensive drinks, horrible people, a truly wretched singer covering John Cougar songs. I woke up this morning feeling slightly poisoned, as if having breathed polluted air.

I conclude that the expiry date on my clubbing days has come and gone.

filed under: randomthoughts, angstloathing

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Just one more...

Ok, ok, I know I said I wouldn't go foodie on all y'all. But I am so proud of this (the recipe, not the photo). It's a polenta pizza, topped with carmelized onions, grilled portabellos, anchovies, garlicky spinach, fat-free (had to try it) ricotta and a sprinkle of fresh grated romano.

Today's kitchen tip: ditch the pizza wheel and use kitchen scissors instead. Sounds strange, works like a charm. The same scissors for zesting (see below). In case you're wondering, my gourmet miracle kitchen scissors are the plastic-handled dollar store variety. See, I'll never make it as a foodie--I shop in all the wrong places.

filed under: sexyyummy, fluffdrivel

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Still Life with Zest.

I wrote over the holidays about my blood sugar highs and lows. I have decided to rein things in using the Weight Watchers core program--basically a whole-foods, low-carb plan, with a (small) allowance for the occasional splurge. There's no calorie counting involved, just thoughtful eating. (I do hold myself above fat-free dairy, however, and am going with low-er fat cheeses in moderate amounts instead.)

So, armed with my list of permitted foods, off I went to Sam's Club yesterday. (Yes, it's evil, but in our case it is a necessary one. We actually go through ten-pound boxes of Cheerios at an alarming rate. Also, they are carrying more organic selections, so leave me the hell alone about it :-P)

In additon to the usual military-sized quantities of fishsticks and peanut butter, I loaded up on crudities and Laughing Cow cheese wedges for snacking, skinless chicken breasts and tilapia fillets for broiling, golden potatoes and colored peppers for roasting, sweet peruvian onions for carmelizing, eggs from veggie-fed hens and organic milk for my conscience, and an enormous mesh bag of lemons, because it is January.

(Also, I have discovered that just about any vegetable is wonderful if served up with enough olive oil, lemon juice and sea salt).

Today I ate oatmeal with a handful of blueberries for breakfast, a sort of nicoise salad from last night's leftovers for lunch, a banana, fat-free-sugar-free chocolate pudding, popcorn and perrier for a snack. Tonight's menu: this recipe from Jamie Oliver for lemon roasted chicken and this one for roasted beets with a ginger-balsamic glaze. I'm sort of on a roasting kick.

Don't worry, the blog won't turn into a foodie journal. It's just been a slow news day. But let me sign off with my preferred technique for zesting a lemon. I hate rubbing them on graters; half the zest sticks in the holes. I like to use a vegetable peeler to peel strips off, then chop them in a dish with scissors, like you would with fresh herbs. Yes, it makes for coarse zest, but I think most things in life are tastier that way.

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