Thursday, January 14, 2016

Alan Rickman on de Valera

Very interesting comment.

Alan Rickman

One of my favorite actors of all time has died.  Alan Rickman was 69;  he had cancer, hated, hateful cancer.

Younger audiences may only know him from the Harry Potter films.  I first saw him in "Die Hard," which promptly became my favorite Christmas movie.

But he was beyond brilliant in "Michael Collins."  He played Eamon de Valera, controversial Irish revolutionary and first president of the Irish Republic.  When I was a kid my grandparents spoke of de Valera in tones of mixed reverence and fury.  De Valera died in 1973, after sixty years as Taoiseach.

Here's Alan Rickman in "Michael Collins."  My favorite is the altar server bit.

Tuesday, January 05, 2016

The Calm Before The Cold

The weather hasn't been too bad this winter, as Minnesota winters go.  But the forecasters are telling us that winter will move in for real on Sunday.  Single digit temps and high wind chill factors.  In other words, the usual kind of thing.

And for the first time since I've moved here, the forecast has everyone spooked.  How spooked, you ask?  So spooked that  no one is buying tickets for the Vikings playoff game this Sunday.

This is unheard of.  Think of it:  all of Minnesota, coming to its senses at once.  Everyone int h Twin Cities suddenly realizing how completely insane it is to venture out of doors when the wind chill is somewhere around 20 below.

I give the residents of my adopted state a lot of credit.  This wisdom has been a long time coming, and I congratulate everyone in the North Star State for finally getting a clue.

Saturday, January 02, 2016

New Year, Con't.

So.  Did we all make our New Year's resolutions?

Mine are pretty simple:  acquire a hot body, become a bestselling author, learn five new languages, etc.

Haven't worked out how I'll achieve these goals yet.  But I think I may have found one path that could lead to hot-bodiness, or at least lukewarm-bodiness.

If there is one thing that is true about me, it's that I hate to exercise.  I mean, I don't just dislike it.  I HATE it.  But I am forced to admit that, like death and taxes, the need to exercise is inevitable.

I think I may have found the perfect exercise class for me.  I can tell it's perfect by how much I hate it. It's at the fitness club, it combines hot yoga with weight training, and it's popular with men as well as women. Which means that, in addition to being one of the most horrible things I need to do for myself, it smells pretty bad, too.  A twofer.

You need a few pieces of equipment for the class.  A yoga mat, so you can stake out your personal space as far away from the sound system as possible.  Colorful hand weights.  A water bottle.  And a small towel.  The towel is important.  You need it to wipe the sweat from your palms every five seconds so you won't drop one of your colorful weights on your toes.  Plus it gives you something to sob into when no one is looking.

Then you let some gorgeous young thing without an ounce of body fat torture you for an hour.  "Balance, balance, balance and lift that right leg up over your head!"  That sort of thing.

I realize I need to make some changes in my diet, too, if I want to achieve hot-bodiness.  A diet of pizza and kettle corn is probably not the way to optimum health. 

But one reform at a time.