Week in Review

[kate_nepveu]

This was mostly a bad week—not for any obvious reason, just a blah, late-winter, tired, cross-at-everything week. It got better toward the end, when I remembered that I hadn't worked out in at least a week and needed to nip that trend in the bud. It was cheering on three different levels: I was being virtuous, I got a nice endorphin kick, and I procrastinated on paper torture.

I'm reasonably settled into my new office, and I hope the process will be complete tomorrow when I bring in a floor lamp (the result of an over-long quest yesterday), complete with light bulb that claims to be more like daylight—my office is on an east wall across a narrow street from a tall building, and so while I'm very fond of it, "light and sunny" it isn't. And late Friday the facility people tricked the heating into dispensing air at 72 degrees, rather than 80, so improvements all around.

We went out to dinner last night at Provence, a reliably-good local restaurant, where I had roasted duck with black currant sauce and a really nice white wine whose name I forgot the instant the waiter took the specials list back. Came home pleasantly tipsy and watched the DVD of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. I really like this movie. I remember the first two as needlessly gross, but this has a lovely balance of action and character, especially between the Doctors Jones—just the way Indy says "Dad" makes me smile every time. The fourth movie appears to be in script hell at the moment; if they are going to do another one, I really hope they get it right.

I caught the last part of another well-loved movie, L.A. Confidential, this morning. I really only tuned in to see the scene, two-thirds of the way through or so, that the whole movie pivots around: I just love the way everything clicks together and runs straight downhill thereafter. "With a wrecking ball. You wanna help me swing it?"

For most of the day that was about all I accomplished. I took an unplanned, very heavy nap for some undetermined portion of the afternoon, while Chad was at work grading lab reports. The dog woke me at 5:00; thankfully she started by licking my hands, before resorting to the cold nose in my face. In penance, I immediately took her out for a long walk. Note to self: when you haven't eaten or drunk for most of the day, it is really stupid to go for a walk with a hyper dog. Fortunately I did not actually pass out, which is about all I can say for it. I've since had dinner, walked the dog again, worked out, and posted a couple of book log entries; I hope that this is cumulatively enough activity to allow me to sleep reasonably soon.

Just two blog-like items this week:

• Patrick Nielsen Hayden, movingly, on the same-sex marriages in San Francisco.
• Jim Henley thinks "Berlin Wall," looking at the above and related news. I hope so, I really do, though I can't quite bring myself to believe it.

Comments

[ex-mahoney365.livejournal.com]

Okay, what is Indy's name? Is it specifically stated that his name *is* 'Henry,' after his father? Because for some reason I remember it being made clear that he was embarrassingly named 'Junior,' which is why he stole the dog's much cooler name 'Indiana.' I remember something like the following exchange: "Why do you call him that [Junior]?" "Because that's his name. The *dog's* name was Indiana."

[kate_nepveu]

He's Henry Jones Jr., called Junior and not named it for a first name.

The dog was a beautiful husky, it looked like.

(And goodness, but River Phoenix did an eerie early-Indy, didn't he?)