New favorite winter vacation spot: Ft. Myers, Florida
New favorite automobile: '58 Chevy Corvette
New favorite song: One Sweet Love by Sara Bareilles
(who is, incidentally, my new favorite artist)
Best lyrics of the song:
"Your unexpected love provides my solitary's suicide...
The time that I've taken
I pray is not wasted.
Have I already tasted
my piece of one sweet love?
Ready and waiting
for a heart worth the breaking.
But I'd settle for an honest mistake in
the name of One sweet love."
(the rest of lyrics)
New favorite person: I'll let you guys decide
30 January 2008
25 January 2008
Florida, here I come!
There is nothing like a break at the end of January. Especially when a January has been as cold and unfriendly as this particular one has been.
A 4-day trip to Florida to visit my grandparents and aunt should help get me through to the end of March, when I'll be heading (hopefully) to California for a few days.
They say (they being my connections down there as well as the people at the weather channel) that it should be in the 70's and sunny. While my aunt reminded me, "It's winter here!", I say -- her winter is nothing like this winter. Wind chill factor of negative 22 makes me think I signed up to live in Canada or Alaska, not Indiana. I'm thinking anything above 60 will feel like paradise.
That said, I'm currently enjoying the company of one Sara Wolf for a few days. I found on my mirror this morning a checklist of things I was to do today, as dictated by the Teacher, herself.
The first thing I saw this morning as I squinted my way into the bathroom and flipped on the light was "Say 'Top of the morning' to someone," and I burst out laughing. It was the perfect way to wake up. Oh, Sara.
I'll report on the loveliness of Florida upon my return--Tuesday evening.
Until then, try not to freeze!
A 4-day trip to Florida to visit my grandparents and aunt should help get me through to the end of March, when I'll be heading (hopefully) to California for a few days.
They say (they being my connections down there as well as the people at the weather channel) that it should be in the 70's and sunny. While my aunt reminded me, "It's winter here!", I say -- her winter is nothing like this winter. Wind chill factor of negative 22 makes me think I signed up to live in Canada or Alaska, not Indiana. I'm thinking anything above 60 will feel like paradise.
That said, I'm currently enjoying the company of one Sara Wolf for a few days. I found on my mirror this morning a checklist of things I was to do today, as dictated by the Teacher, herself.
- Have a great day at work
- Wear some Very Sexy Hot perfume (so you don't smell like soup)
- Email Sara
- Say "Top of the morning!" to someone
The first thing I saw this morning as I squinted my way into the bathroom and flipped on the light was "Say 'Top of the morning' to someone," and I burst out laughing. It was the perfect way to wake up. Oh, Sara.
I'll report on the loveliness of Florida upon my return--Tuesday evening.
Until then, try not to freeze!
Li-Young Lee "From Blossoms"
(excerpt)
O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.
There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.
(emphasis mine)
from Rose: Poems by Li-Young Lee.
New York,: BOA Editions, Ltd., 1986.
O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.
There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.
(emphasis mine)
from Rose: Poems by Li-Young Lee.
New York,: BOA Editions, Ltd., 1986.
22 January 2008
Projecty Lana
This semester, in addition to my booming social life, I have a list of projects I want to accomplish.
I don't usually set my sights too high, as I nearly always disappoint myself when I do. But, there are things I want to learn and do this winter, and thus I am determined to make it happen.
I don't usually set my sights too high, as I nearly always disappoint myself when I do. But, there are things I want to learn and do this winter, and thus I am determined to make it happen.
- Make an apron for a friend
- Make one for me
- Start and finish my Italy scrapbook
- Learn two new piano pieces (which is to say, play regularly)
- Read at least 4 specific books
Ballet pictures
Although Steph and I didn't get any pictures of the actual ballet. I don't have the guts to take pictures with flash during a performance...unless, of course, it's an accident, like at Griffin House's concert. That was really embarrassing.
These are a couple shots we took at the venue and at home afterwards.
Trying to hold up the programs AND get our heads in the picture didn't work out so well. At least we look cute.
These are a couple shots we took at the venue and at home afterwards.
Trying to hold up the programs AND get our heads in the picture didn't work out so well. At least we look cute.
The Office
To oblige a friend who asked quite nicely for pictures of my office, I snapped these this morning before any students were around to think me strange and narcissistic for taking photos of the place where I work 8 hours a day.
The view from the door.
The view from my chair into the Reference area.
The view to the left from my desk.
Note the fishbowl aspect of my existence. That's why I requested blinds last year. Now, I typically have the window to my left blocked off with blinds. I feel like people don't stare as much. :o)
The view from the door.
The view from my chair into the Reference area.
The view to the left from my desk.Note the fishbowl aspect of my existence. That's why I requested blinds last year. Now, I typically have the window to my left blocked off with blinds. I feel like people don't stare as much. :o)
16 January 2008
My Anniversary
Although I didn't realize it at the time, my one-year annivesary was yesterday.
No, not that kind of anniversary.
It was that of being a real person, of entering the adult world, of having a professional job, and, ultimately, of growing up.
I celebrated (without actually knowing it) by attending Romeo & Juliet, the ballet, performed by the St. Petersburg Ballet Theatre with Stephanie.
Our ballet theatre experience can be summed up in one word: interesting. Or, from Steph, unique.
Let me explain. (Oh, come on. You knew I would.)
The evening began well enough with pizza at my place, but the pizza (the frozen DiGiorgno kind) failed to rise in the oven, like it normally does, creating a dense, spongy, burnt-cheesy substance that was less than appealing, but which we were forced to eat due to my sparse larder.
After choking that down and rushing to get ourselves ready, Steph and I headed toward BSU's campus.
Our seats were stellar. Of course they were, I chose them at least six weeks ago. I even had enough foresight to make sure we were on the aisle, saving us from the awkward moments of climbing over people and being claustrophobic for the duration of the event.
The moment we sat down, I cringed at the odor emanating from a nearby source. After determining that that it wasn't me, I shifted and leaned in various directions to discover the direction of the waft, finding instead that it was all-pervasive. The odor could be described as a distinctly musty, male body odor, the kind that almost seems like attempts were made to contain it, but it was nonetheless powering through. Because of this unfortunate initiation to the show, I ended up tilting toward Steph and the aisle during the entire first act.
The theatre was warm, I was exhausted, and the ballet was confusing. All of this added up to several moments of head-bobbing and eyes rolling as I struggled to maintain consciousness. How can Romeo & Juliet be confusing? I've studied this story a minimum of four times in my literary career and I've watched various stage productions and films depicting it. Steph determined that when you take a beloved, timeless story and transform it by cutting and adding characters (Queen Mab as Death itself or an evil cat, we're still not sure), removing all WORDS, and adding some unfortunate male ballet costuming, you destroy it for those who love literature, especially Shakespeare. If we had not been so familiar with the storyline, and thus confused by the abscence of the Friar and the Apothecary, and the addition of eight nearly naked dancers in flesh colored bits of clothing, perhaps we could have gotten into the flow of things prior to the second half.
Despite the above strikes against the overall experience, the musical orchestration was phenomenal. And, truth be told, the second half (acts 2 and 3) was much more entertaining and infused with emotion. Juliet turned out to be an extraordinary ballerina, dancing with such conviction and meaning that I began to understand the story once again.
During the intermission, the two people to our left moved to the empty seats directly in front of Steph and I, unknowingly cutting off Steph's view of the stage and forcing her to spend the rest of the show contorted, leaning over into my seat to see around the man's head. Two more people, next to the one's who relocated, left the show entirely and in their place two college students squeezed their way through, stating they'd take their chances that no one would return to reclaim the seats. Those girls spent the second half texting and whispering, and then, at the climax of the entire story, the one next to me got up and asked us to let her through. This not only cut off my view of the final moments of Romeo and Juliet dying in each other's arms, but also the view of those behind us for several rows.
The entire event was somewhat comical--the people around us, the interruptions, the confusion over a story that we both know extremely well, the list goes on. It did not turn us off of ballet altogether, though. In fact, we may try to attend The Nutcracker next Christmas in order to see if there is a difference between our experiences, between Russian and American ballet, between literary stories we love and those we know mostly through music and dance.
That said, I know we both enjoyed it and it completes the list of cultural events that Steph and I planned to do together: an opera, a Broadway musical (not on Broadway, unfortunately, but in Chicago), a ballet. I'm not sure what events should follow, but I'm glad that she and I have shared these moments, both good and bad. We're definitely more cultured than before it all began.
No, not that kind of anniversary.
It was that of being a real person, of entering the adult world, of having a professional job, and, ultimately, of growing up.
I celebrated (without actually knowing it) by attending Romeo & Juliet, the ballet, performed by the St. Petersburg Ballet Theatre with Stephanie.
Our ballet theatre experience can be summed up in one word: interesting. Or, from Steph, unique.
Let me explain. (Oh, come on. You knew I would.)
The evening began well enough with pizza at my place, but the pizza (the frozen DiGiorgno kind) failed to rise in the oven, like it normally does, creating a dense, spongy, burnt-cheesy substance that was less than appealing, but which we were forced to eat due to my sparse larder.
After choking that down and rushing to get ourselves ready, Steph and I headed toward BSU's campus.
Our seats were stellar. Of course they were, I chose them at least six weeks ago. I even had enough foresight to make sure we were on the aisle, saving us from the awkward moments of climbing over people and being claustrophobic for the duration of the event.
The moment we sat down, I cringed at the odor emanating from a nearby source. After determining that that it wasn't me, I shifted and leaned in various directions to discover the direction of the waft, finding instead that it was all-pervasive. The odor could be described as a distinctly musty, male body odor, the kind that almost seems like attempts were made to contain it, but it was nonetheless powering through. Because of this unfortunate initiation to the show, I ended up tilting toward Steph and the aisle during the entire first act.
The theatre was warm, I was exhausted, and the ballet was confusing. All of this added up to several moments of head-bobbing and eyes rolling as I struggled to maintain consciousness. How can Romeo & Juliet be confusing? I've studied this story a minimum of four times in my literary career and I've watched various stage productions and films depicting it. Steph determined that when you take a beloved, timeless story and transform it by cutting and adding characters (Queen Mab as Death itself or an evil cat, we're still not sure), removing all WORDS, and adding some unfortunate male ballet costuming, you destroy it for those who love literature, especially Shakespeare. If we had not been so familiar with the storyline, and thus confused by the abscence of the Friar and the Apothecary, and the addition of eight nearly naked dancers in flesh colored bits of clothing, perhaps we could have gotten into the flow of things prior to the second half.
Despite the above strikes against the overall experience, the musical orchestration was phenomenal. And, truth be told, the second half (acts 2 and 3) was much more entertaining and infused with emotion. Juliet turned out to be an extraordinary ballerina, dancing with such conviction and meaning that I began to understand the story once again.
During the intermission, the two people to our left moved to the empty seats directly in front of Steph and I, unknowingly cutting off Steph's view of the stage and forcing her to spend the rest of the show contorted, leaning over into my seat to see around the man's head. Two more people, next to the one's who relocated, left the show entirely and in their place two college students squeezed their way through, stating they'd take their chances that no one would return to reclaim the seats. Those girls spent the second half texting and whispering, and then, at the climax of the entire story, the one next to me got up and asked us to let her through. This not only cut off my view of the final moments of Romeo and Juliet dying in each other's arms, but also the view of those behind us for several rows.
The entire event was somewhat comical--the people around us, the interruptions, the confusion over a story that we both know extremely well, the list goes on. It did not turn us off of ballet altogether, though. In fact, we may try to attend The Nutcracker next Christmas in order to see if there is a difference between our experiences, between Russian and American ballet, between literary stories we love and those we know mostly through music and dance.
That said, I know we both enjoyed it and it completes the list of cultural events that Steph and I planned to do together: an opera, a Broadway musical (not on Broadway, unfortunately, but in Chicago), a ballet. I'm not sure what events should follow, but I'm glad that she and I have shared these moments, both good and bad. We're definitely more cultured than before it all began.
14 January 2008
New things, New leaves
I slept poorly for over a month round about the Thanksgiving-New Year's time frame. Unable to identify the reasons for lying awake for hours each night, I could only suffer through, finding myself irritable, exhausted, and addicted to caffeine.
For the last week, I've slept pretty well, and I attribute this newfound brilliant sleep the fact that I've been reading before bed. Not reading just anything, mind you, but Ian McEwan's Atonement. The phenomenal mental images conjured by his skill as a writer have transported me into a world of dramatic, dysfunctional family relationships in a place far-removed from my own life. Though I often find it hard to stop reading in order to get my required eight hours of sleep, once I close my eyes, I dream the night away in a peaceful slumber.
Thus, I believe I've turned over a new leaf, a new sleeping leaf, as it were.
That isn't, however, the only leaf I've turned in recent weeks. According to my sister, I'm a much different person than she has known and remembers. Granted, she's been away for a long time, but I cannot deny that my love of the outdoors and my ability to try new things has vastly expanded since I returned from my semester abroad in 2003, even more so since I attended grad school and started living away from all that was familiar.
Sometimes I am amazed at this person masquerading in my mind, in my body. And yet, it is me. I am more comfortable now than I was as a kid, adolescent, teenager, or young adult. I think I'm finally becoming me, which is immensely refreshing.
Two significant examples will be documented with photos in subsequent posts, but I will name them here:
All this is to say, I am a new creation. Thank God for that. Thus far my 25th year has been my best, my favorite. I'm have a feeling it will only continue to get better.
For the last week, I've slept pretty well, and I attribute this newfound brilliant sleep the fact that I've been reading before bed. Not reading just anything, mind you, but Ian McEwan's Atonement. The phenomenal mental images conjured by his skill as a writer have transported me into a world of dramatic, dysfunctional family relationships in a place far-removed from my own life. Though I often find it hard to stop reading in order to get my required eight hours of sleep, once I close my eyes, I dream the night away in a peaceful slumber.
Thus, I believe I've turned over a new leaf, a new sleeping leaf, as it were.
That isn't, however, the only leaf I've turned in recent weeks. According to my sister, I'm a much different person than she has known and remembers. Granted, she's been away for a long time, but I cannot deny that my love of the outdoors and my ability to try new things has vastly expanded since I returned from my semester abroad in 2003, even more so since I attended grad school and started living away from all that was familiar.
Sometimes I am amazed at this person masquerading in my mind, in my body. And yet, it is me. I am more comfortable now than I was as a kid, adolescent, teenager, or young adult. I think I'm finally becoming me, which is immensely refreshing.
Two significant examples will be documented with photos in subsequent posts, but I will name them here:
- In December, I climbed a mountain.
- This past weekend, I went skiing.
All this is to say, I am a new creation. Thank God for that. Thus far my 25th year has been my best, my favorite. I'm have a feeling it will only continue to get better.
13 January 2008
Ski Trip '08
How sweet!
Too Cool for School
Been skiing our whole lives, can't you tell?
One last time up...then, hot chocolate.
11 January 2008
How do I find them?
Sometimes I wonder if strange people don't run into me, as if I have developed some sort of a homing device for weirdos. Liz inherited the radar for jerks, but what if I have one for strangies.
About a year and a half ago, I sat behind this boy in church and was distracted for the duration of the service by his kissy, momma's boy self. It was profoundly disturbing, as I still remember the scene quite vividly: the white laciness of his mother's cardigan, his fingers rubbing her shoulder, the way she tried to shrink ever-so-slightly away from him.
Today in chapel, I sat behind a high school student who was visiting with her parents. What struck me first about these three was their participation in the chapel singing. Usually, prospectives who sit at the back of the chapel are somewhat withdrawn from the overall atmosphere of the service, watching the students and faculty around them trying to gauge their interest with the level of involvement of everyone else.
The daughter, the prospective student, was swaying and clapping, and both of her parents were praising the Lord with their hands in the air. Why is this striking when I've been around Christian circles like this my whole life? Personally, I'm never comfortable enough to join whole-heartedly into any sort of praise and worship scene as a first-timer. A visit to a new church or similar place will rarely find me a strong participant.
When we were seated for the sermon-esque part of the service, the husband put his arm around his wife. It was then, with his hand directly in front of my face, that I realized the mother's and daughter's shoulders were overlapping, despite the fact that they were in two seats separated by an awkwardly placed arm rest. I shifted in my seat a smidge so I could see what was going on, and that's when I realized that a family very dissimilar to my own was sitting in front of me.
The mom had her arm intertwined with her daughter's and her hand rested on the girl's crossed leg. They smiled at each other and whispered back and forth, and I kept thinking -- at 18 my mom was definitely not allowed to touch me. In fact, at 8 I asked my dad to stop holding my hand because it was embarrassing as he walked me to class every day. He refused. Until I was out of the 5th grade, he said. It was tradition. Since I had no choice, I acquiesced, despite my embarrassment and annoyance.
So touching my upper leg? No. NO.
Apparently, the family had recently studied 1 & 2 Chronicles and the really, really minor prophets, because that's what the sermon was about, and they kept exchanging knowing glances and whispers and laughing (at the appropriate Old Testament joke parts).
After one extended whispered dialog between the mom and girl, they shifted and interlaced their fingers. Now, they were holding hands. With interlaced fingers.
Horrified, I tried desperately to refocus on the story of Ahab and Jehoshaphat, Hanni and his son Jehu. But I kept coming back to the image.
Not this:
www.fotosearch.com/FSP468/457015/
But this:
www.caribbean-media.info
Perhaps I have these random, revolting encounters with strangies because, in reality, I have too many sensitivities. But, in the same way that I am positive it isn't healthy for an 11-year-old boy to be making love to his mother's arm, I know that holding hands with your mother as an 18-year-old girl is best not displayed in a public place.
*images found using Google Images
About a year and a half ago, I sat behind this boy in church and was distracted for the duration of the service by his kissy, momma's boy self. It was profoundly disturbing, as I still remember the scene quite vividly: the white laciness of his mother's cardigan, his fingers rubbing her shoulder, the way she tried to shrink ever-so-slightly away from him.
Today in chapel, I sat behind a high school student who was visiting with her parents. What struck me first about these three was their participation in the chapel singing. Usually, prospectives who sit at the back of the chapel are somewhat withdrawn from the overall atmosphere of the service, watching the students and faculty around them trying to gauge their interest with the level of involvement of everyone else.
The daughter, the prospective student, was swaying and clapping, and both of her parents were praising the Lord with their hands in the air. Why is this striking when I've been around Christian circles like this my whole life? Personally, I'm never comfortable enough to join whole-heartedly into any sort of praise and worship scene as a first-timer. A visit to a new church or similar place will rarely find me a strong participant.
When we were seated for the sermon-esque part of the service, the husband put his arm around his wife. It was then, with his hand directly in front of my face, that I realized the mother's and daughter's shoulders were overlapping, despite the fact that they were in two seats separated by an awkwardly placed arm rest. I shifted in my seat a smidge so I could see what was going on, and that's when I realized that a family very dissimilar to my own was sitting in front of me.
The mom had her arm intertwined with her daughter's and her hand rested on the girl's crossed leg. They smiled at each other and whispered back and forth, and I kept thinking -- at 18 my mom was definitely not allowed to touch me. In fact, at 8 I asked my dad to stop holding my hand because it was embarrassing as he walked me to class every day. He refused. Until I was out of the 5th grade, he said. It was tradition. Since I had no choice, I acquiesced, despite my embarrassment and annoyance.
So touching my upper leg? No. NO.
Apparently, the family had recently studied 1 & 2 Chronicles and the really, really minor prophets, because that's what the sermon was about, and they kept exchanging knowing glances and whispers and laughing (at the appropriate Old Testament joke parts).
After one extended whispered dialog between the mom and girl, they shifted and interlaced their fingers. Now, they were holding hands. With interlaced fingers.
Horrified, I tried desperately to refocus on the story of Ahab and Jehoshaphat, Hanni and his son Jehu. But I kept coming back to the image.
Not this:
www.fotosearch.com/FSP468/457015/But this:
www.caribbean-media.info Perhaps I have these random, revolting encounters with strangies because, in reality, I have too many sensitivities. But, in the same way that I am positive it isn't healthy for an 11-year-old boy to be making love to his mother's arm, I know that holding hands with your mother as an 18-year-old girl is best not displayed in a public place.
*images found using Google Images
10 January 2008
Our whole family
We staged this one and, surprisingly, it turned out well.Officially, The Gottschalks.
And, of course, the Grandparents and Grandchildren.06 January 2008
Finally, selections from my Christmas break
Leslie and I fighting over the wishbone in the 22 pound turkey Tracy prepared for us in North Carolina.
We also climbed a mountain - Crowder's Mountain - with 254 steps at the top.
Tracy got five of us free tickets to an NBA game of the Charlotte Bobcats.Great seats!
For the second time, I traveled through the Lazy 5 Ranch, a drive-through wild-life park with all kinds of llamas, emus, ostriches, pot-bellied pigs, antelope, a rhino, giraffes, long-horned cattle--all sorts of cool beasts. This picture was taken out the back of Mindy's van.
And this is our family -- the Edwards -- our lovely hosts for a week.We enjoyed ourselves immensely.
Back to Indiana...and more Christmas celebrations
It seemed continual...the Christmas holidays this year. A week in North Carolina. 10 days at my parents in Rochester with four of those involving our entire immediate family. Evan's birthday party on New Year's Eve. Movie day with Mom and Dad on New Year's day. It was awesome.
Christmas cookies decorated a la Maddie's choice, thus the colors were pink, purple, and green, giving us cookies that would have looked more appropriate during the Easter holidays.
How cute are these two? We loved all being under the same roof again.
Leslie and Maddie reading.
Emily and Katie just hanging out.
Christmas cookies decorated a la Maddie's choice, thus the colors were pink, purple, and green, giving us cookies that would have looked more appropriate during the Easter holidays.
How cute are these two? We loved all being under the same roof again.
Leslie and Maddie reading.
Emily and Katie just hanging out.
This is how much fun we were having!
The tradition carries on
We have a tradition in our family in which Mom decorates a birthday cake with some sort of a message or design that is meaningful to whomever's birthday it is. This year, Em--Ev's wife--wanted to try her hand at it. She got him a Wii for Christmas and picked that out as the theme.
Here she is hard at work. She's a total natural at this art form. And I think she loved doing it.
The message on the cake was "Wii love you Evan" and it had two Wii people (Mii) and a tennis racket and ball, along with a couple bowling pins and 3-D bowling ball.
He loved it when he finally got to see it after the amazing dinner that Emily, Leslie, and Mom prepared.
Here she is hard at work. She's a total natural at this art form. And I think she loved doing it.
The message on the cake was "Wii love you Evan" and it had two Wii people (Mii) and a tennis racket and ball, along with a couple bowling pins and 3-D bowling ball.
He loved it when he finally got to see it after the amazing dinner that Emily, Leslie, and Mom prepared.
Despite all of the fun we were having, Leslie was sick for two long weeks. So sick, in fact, that she tried very hard to go to a doctor, not something she's prone to do. Ever.
When I tried, on New Year's Eve to get a picture with her...this was all she could give me.
And, truth be told, I felt very sick the entire evening myself.
The next day, this is what I looked like: stayed in my pajamas all day, didn't redo my hair from the previous day or anything.
Because I posted this picture, you cannot get mad at me for posting the above delightful photo of you :o)
When I tried, on New Year's Eve to get a picture with her...this was all she could give me.
And, truth be told, I felt very sick the entire evening myself.The next day, this is what I looked like: stayed in my pajamas all day, didn't redo my hair from the previous day or anything.
Because I posted this picture, you cannot get mad at me for posting the above delightful photo of you :o)What makes a great weekend?
Evan and I rarely get to hang out just the two of us. I miss that these days, but I'm just as busy as, if not busier than, he and Emily. However, since his wife was out of town this weekend, and my original plans were postponed, we decided to have a Movie Marathon weekend.
I arrived late Friday evening and we sat around catching up, discussing our younger years and the future. Earlier that day, we'd emailed lists of potential Top 5 movies for the weekend, eventually honing it down to five movies that came out within the last year or so that we'd missed. We rounded off Friday evening with Equilibrium, Christian Bale at his finest.
Saturday we did nothing but watch movies and the NFL playoffs. The line-up included: Da Vinci Code, Ocean's 13, Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, and V for Vendetta. To be completely honest, I'd already seen Equilibrium and V, but I loved them and knew them to be aligned with Evan's taste.
While I wouldn't recommend lounging and watching movies all day every weekend, it was awesome. I hope it is at least a semesterly event for Ev and I.
I arrived late Friday evening and we sat around catching up, discussing our younger years and the future. Earlier that day, we'd emailed lists of potential Top 5 movies for the weekend, eventually honing it down to five movies that came out within the last year or so that we'd missed. We rounded off Friday evening with Equilibrium, Christian Bale at his finest.
Saturday we did nothing but watch movies and the NFL playoffs. The line-up included: Da Vinci Code, Ocean's 13, Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, and V for Vendetta. To be completely honest, I'd already seen Equilibrium and V, but I loved them and knew them to be aligned with Evan's taste.
While I wouldn't recommend lounging and watching movies all day every weekend, it was awesome. I hope it is at least a semesterly event for Ev and I.
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