Oh how delicious that Poet Oatmeal stout was Thursday, on the heels of the more acidic Magic Hat ale. The first pint was preparatory, the second remarkable, the third satisfying. I sudden-see the wisdom in my grandparents beer before bedtime. Beer "makes me feel mellow" in the words of poet/singer Tom T. Hall and was especially nice post-bingo. The trick is: how not to get a beer belly. Thursday's ales took the wind out of Friday's drinking sails, even when the latter was under the auspices of the Friday Night Opry.
On Saturday my brother & his children visited from Cincy. We made tracks for a kids-friendly movie titled How to Train Your Dragon after a visit to the local pet shop where the kids met Norbert, the ageless turtle. How to Train Your Dragon was a 3-D Viking movie, which pretty much says it all. Very cool. Big forearms and big Scottish brogues and the extra "D" in 3D really makes a difference even in little things like the waves lapping against the boat. The atmospherics were splendid even if the message and plot were predictable, especially given Hollywood's equation that fear = hate = war. Eliminate all fear and there'd be no war, or at least it'd be a one-sided war and would thus be over quickly I suppose. When Lisa Kudrow saw the graves of victims of the Holocaust in a recent documentary-style network show, she said that "this is what fear does." But seems to me that is what hate does. But surely they are linked since perfect love casts out all fear. Still, I attribute Hollywood's fear of fear, fairly or unfairly, to their paranoia that someday, somewhere, someone in the U.S. will hate Muslims due to terrorism.
Sunday went to Palm Sunday Mass ("the marathon," brother calls it; his wife"the play"). Then after lunch we hit COSI. I decided to go too and it was pleasant to see the kids so enjoying themselves. Aaron twice got lost and cried briefly and that was touching. In a few years, the teen years, he'll probably want to get lost!
Spent the eve reclining under the watchful gaze of the novel Shadow Country. I reveled in the physicality of the book, it's fine smell and the smallish print which made me feel like I was getting more for my money. None of this 212-pages-with-big-print-making-it-effectively-145-pages stuff. Bill Simmons, Dan Simmons and Peter Matthiessen: you can tell they write for the "love of the game."
I also inhaled a large portion of The Big Short by the author whose name I'm always forgetting (Michael Lewis). Even after all this time I'm still fascinated by how we got there from here, meaning the cusp of the world's greatest fiscal crisis. It's a fascinating read if only yet another reminder, *sigh*, of how dumb the "best and brightest" are. The old saw is that it takes the government to really screw something up, but that applies to businesses and industries too, especially lately (Enron, et al.). The cause of the crisis looks like a race between greed, ignorance, malfeasance, good intentions (i.e. lending to the poor), etc.... Of course they're not all mutually exclusive.