Domestic Arts

Who doesn't like some Tilda Swinton, for verily she is smokin', brilliant, and possessed of an enviable fashion sense and an arguably more enviable design for living. We may get a chance to see her new movie if the kids' camp shifts to another home this evening, and we indulge in the suburban institution of date night. My reward for sitting thru all the kiddie movies. I was worried it would be just flat-out Italian food porn, which seems to be the go-to meme for women with a case of the Bovaries nowadays, plus is in bad taste with the end of the world approaching, but this review makes it sound like more than that. It is not safe for day camp.

BUT click on that above link and do a search for the word "ticklish" and you will read one of the funniest sentences ever and spew coffee in a way that will make children laugh. DH has actually created a little song out of one of its memorable phrases.

The other night after we got them to bed, DH made us omelettes while I paged through the magazine, and this short piece on Christopher Hitchens also caught my eye. I've always had a thing for him, though I know it's so, so wrong. (Plus, he's waxed, and I prefer men au naturel.) (And you know what's funny, a friend had a facebook thread about sense memories during first kisses, and so many of us mentioned tobacco scent. Results could have been skewed by age (smoking was still OK in the 70s) and/or the high proportion of artists, of whom four out of five prefer bad boys.) Anyway, he has a dinner game where you substitute the word "dick" for "heart" in a title.

Me: Francis Ford Coppola's One from the Dick.
DH: Dick and Soul.
Me: Obscure Christian Slater movie Untamed Dick.
DH: Pure Dick.
Me: What the hell is that?
DH: It's a classic piece of sports writing. About Secretariat.
Me: That would make sense. Ashtray Dick.
DH: What's that?
Me: Song, by Captain Beefheart.
DH: Captain Beefdick.

The Winnah!!!

Behind me: Little Falls trail. Before me: Folklife festival with three or four children.