I just finished reading Michael Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. Zowie. I wish I’d read it back in 2000. I’d have re-read it six times by now.
I finally saw Superman Returns, and I can recommend, if the topic of conversation goes to the various incarnations of the Man of Steel, that you not state loudly and emphatically that “Tom Welling is soooooo pretty. Distractingly so. What’s he saying? What’s he doing? Can he act? Don’t know, don’t care: he’s soooooo pretty!” just in case he turns out to be your housemate’s sister’s fiance’s former roommate’s brother. ‘Cause such a thing would be, you know, mildly embarrassing.
A couple of weeks ago I went on vacation. I spent part of it having adventures locally (fishing in Puget Sound), and part of it having adventures less locally (hiking up Mt. Constitution on Orcas Island).
I should explain that going fishing was a Big Freaking Deal because I’ve never done it before, unless you count scooping up pond guppies in a mason jar. But guppies aren’t good eatin’. Salmon, however is. Good, good good. That’s one “good” for every salmon I caught. A note for folks who know the limit is two: Cap’n Steve and his assistant let us fish their quota, then split the catch up with the folks on the charter. That means P & I and brought home 6 lovely and delicious salmon, two of which were consumed that very evening in extra-nifty company.