Heh. Yes, it's that time when a sunburn starts to peel. So for the last two days I've been walking around with my skin flaking off in little bits. Attractive, eh?

In other news, the trip to Madison this weekend was lovely. The weather was a bit cold, especially with the wind coming off the lakes, but at least it wasn't raining. State Street made me envious. All that shopping! All that food! I finally got a masala dosa for the first time in way too long. S's brother met us there for lunch and a couple of hours of beer drinking, and then we went to hear my aunt tell her story at the festival. Just as I suspected, she is, not so secretly, hilarious. It was great to get to see her and introduce her to my friends.

On the drive back the next morning my friends introduced me to cheese curds, a form of cheese that doesn't taste much different than regular cheddar (although it does have a pleasing squeakiness), but that is apparently trying to kill you. One serving is a 1-inch square cube, and that has 30% of your saturated fat for the day. Ah, sweet sweet heart attack. And also possibly the unhealthiest thing I've ever heard of you being able to buy at a farmer's market.

In other other news, check out Postsecret, one of the best postcard art projects I've seen in a long time. Confess your deepest darkest secrets to the Internet, via the anonymity of the U.S. Mail.

After almost three years of living in Champaign-Urbana, this year I finally made it to some of the Ebertfest movies. I got into all three by waiting in the last-minute ticket line, which seems to be a pretty good way to go. Seating is general admission, so even if you buy your tickets ahead of time, you're not guaranteed especially good seats. The balcony of the Virginia, where I ended up sitting for all three movies, has one major problem: all the seats are lined up directly behind each other, instead of slightly offset. So unless you luck out and get a seat where no one is sitting in the seat directly in front of you, you're almost guaranteed a neck-craningly painful viewing experience. For the first movie,Playtime , my date and I got seats on the aisle, but directly behind two guys whose huge, beefy heads blocked the entire screen. My date kindly offered to switch seats with me, but it wouldn't have made things any better for either of us, so I slipped out of my seat once the movie started and sat on the steps in the aisle. We were right near the top of the balcony, so I didn't block anyone's view or exit, and I ended up having a great view of the screen. Then on Thursday I took some vacation hours and went to the two afternoon movies by myself. For Murderball, I got a fantastic seat with no one in the seat in front of me, so I had a completely clear view. By the time I had gone back out to get my ticket for The Saddest Music in the World and come back in again, my good seat was gone, and I found myself behind a very tall girl whose head consistently blocked the right half of the screen. Seating problems aside, these were some great movies.

• Playtime - This was an extremely odd and slowly paced movie that I feel fortunate to have seen in its full 70mm glory. Playtime, follows two characters, Mr. Hulot and an American woman named Barbara, as they spend the day traveling from one indistinguishable concrete and glass building to another. The two lives briefly intersect at various points throughout the day, providing a reassuringly human element to the urban landscape. Nothing really "happens", and I think if I had been watching this movie on the small screen I would have been really bored. None of the shots ever come in for a close up, because there is too much detail going on in the background and middle ground of the various shots. Because it would be impossible to make out much of this detail on a tv-sized screen, you'd lose a huge part of what makes the film engaging. So unless you're like my brother, who set up a home theater system to show movies and tv in a 9 or 10 foot wide projection against the wall of his apartment, you might not want to bother with renting this. We didn't stay for the discussion afterwards, but the next day, while introducing another movie, Ebert mentioned that a movie critic in the audience who had seen the film numerous times had noticed for the first time that Barbara was wearing an engagement ring and that Hulot noticed this and briefly looked sad. So even after multiple viewings there are still new details to reward an attentive viewer.
  
• Murderball - This was by far the best of the three movies. A documentary about wheelchair rugby as played by quadriplegics, Murderball is really more like an event from the X-Games than a traditional people-overcoming-the-odds-of-their-handicap movie. The film definitely doesn't shy away from the profound ways that these guys' lives have changed since their injuries, but it also focuses more on their competitive drive that makes them Olympic-caliber athletes. When Mark Zupan and Joe Soares came out onto the stage at the end of the movie they got a standing ovation that Ebert described as the longest in the festival's history. And indeed they should have. I predict this one is going to be huge when it comes out this summer, and probably in serious Oscar contention next year. Keep an eye out for it in theaters near you in July.
  
• The Saddest Music in the World - This was the only one of the three that I didn't really like. A strange hybrid of a silent movie and a farce, Saddest Music left me with a bad taste in my mouth at the end. I think mostly because I wanted some kind of redemption for the main characters. Even though you finally see the fast-talking musical showman with a tear in his eye at the end I never felt like he really reached a point where he or any of the other characters allowed themselves to truly feel their sadness. I didn't stay for the discussion at the end, because, while it's possible the director might have had some insight that would have changed my view of the movie, I feel like a movie shouldn't depend on external explanations to make you 'get' it. Not that a movie can't be successful if it intrigues you and confuses you, but if you have to depend on external factors to make the movie feel worthwhile, then it has, in my opinion, failed.
  

Last night I went to see David Sedaris read at the Virginia Theater. As expected, it was awesome. All of the work he read was new (to me at least), and he had the audience laughing pretty much right from the start. The best quote of the night was definitely "'Shit' is the tofu of cursing." He also talked about how he hadn't seen much of Champaign except for his hotel, which was "between a Hooters and a TGI Friday's." I think my favorite story was the one that started out with the plane ride with the well-heeled couple who cursed like sailors, moved on to the cab driver who asked him if he liked "the dick", and ended up with him looking at beastiality porn with his sister Amy.

He seemed a little nervous about being in front of an audience, maybe. There was no opening patter to warm up, he just walked out (after a brief dash back to the wings to retrieve his bottle of water), started reading, and kept his head down, staring at the pages even between stories. He did warm up for audience questions at the end, though, and gave a great description of flying into Springfield with a Lincoln impersonator who was on his way to the Lincoln Museum opening. And he even handled with aplomb being almost upstaged by a bat winging its way across the Virginia's stage.

There were quite a few library and library school folks in attendance. There were at least 10 that we saw or talked to, and I'm sure there were a ton more we didn't manage to spot. Unsurprisingly, when he asked who in the audience listened to NPR almost the entire theater answered yes.

He also talked up Children Playing Before a Statue of Hercules, the new anthology of his favorite short stories, and made an interesting observation about one of the authors (possibly Lorrie Moore). He said that he loved her stories because they made him laugh all the way through and then feel sad at the end... Which is what I've always felt is one of the greatest strengths of his own stories. Just try reading "The Youth in Asia" or "Repeat After Me" without being completely in tears by the end.

On multiple occasions I've observed the power of a tight, black t-shirt with the word TEXAS prominently displayed across the, uh, chestular area to spark conversations with random strangers. It's prompted guys to talk to me on buses in Hawaii and grocery stores in Champaign, with the added bonus that the guys are usually young and fairly cute. This weekend I discovered a corollary. A shirt that says ILLINOIS in the same region will attract conversation from middle-aged men and women who will either

1. Engage you in a 5 minute long conversation about this year's final game, the emotions prompted thereby, and how they themselves were hoping for a different ending, OR
2. A quick "Go Illinois" almost whispered in passing. Sort of a drive-by cheer, if you will.

So, the lesson here? I'm not sure, but I do think it would be fun to test this further. What kind of conversations would you get with a shirt that said ALASKA, or SOUTH DAKOTA, or IDAHO?

Heh. Idaho.

San Diego improved significantly on Friday when I spent the day walking around town and laying on the beach. Unfortunately, I couldn't figure out what I wanted to do first, so I walked about 3 miles further than I had to just because I was so indecisive. On the plus side, I did get to see Balboa Park, which is quite pretty, although it's virtually impossible to buy a cooling beverage there, because some of the park's long-term residents have broken into pretty much every drink vending machine in the place and emptied them of their contents.

Anyway, I walked around the city till about noon and then caught the ferry out to Coronado Island, which the wonder killer behind me informed everyone was not really an island, because it connects to the mainland by a thin strip of land to the south. On Coronado I found a Greek restaurant that served a version of my favorite soup in the world. Not as good as my favorite Greek deli in New York, but still a nice surprise. Then I headed across the island to the beach. On the way there I passed more adorable little houses with exquisite flower gardens than you could shake a stick at. The beach itself was just right. Busy enough that there was always someone to watch if you got bored, but empty enough that you could lay out on the sand and still have about 30 feet between you and the next person.

Now here's where I made my mistake. I thought, "Oh, wouldn't it be nice to get a little bit of color to clear away my winter pallor and prove I've been somewhere beachy?" I had been, as usual, super-ultra careful about my face all day, and at least I was smart enough to keep doing that. I put SPF 30 on my face at least 6 times. What I didn't put any lotion on at all was my arms and legs. Just a couple of hours sun, I thought. It might burn a tiny bit, but surely not too badly. Uh, yeah, you know how this ends, right? Yesterday's full day of plane flights was especially painful with my lobster-burn legs and arms. Especially when a lady let her suitcase fall over and the handle whacked me in the knee. Sigh.

Other things I learned in San Diego...

• Maybe I had such a rosy vision of the city because the first time I saw it was 18 years ago. 18, people, 18!!! That's almost two decades! No wonder the city has changed so much since then! And it also ties in to lesson #2...
• I am now officially too old to shop in Urban Outfitters. I came to this realization when the clerk who was ringing up my skirt called me ma'am and asked if I was buying it as a gift. When I said no, she got this startled look on her face and said, "Oh! That's even better, then!" Perhaps it was the fact that I was dressed in my full conference-going outfit of button down shirt, khakis, jacket, and high heels that threw her. Or it could just mean that she was born in the year I first visited San Diego. Sigh.
  

...and now I want it back.

San Diego: Not nearly as pretty (or as clean) as I remember.

P.S. to my hotel: Elevators that haven't been updated since 1913 are not a selling point. Neither is having gaps in your windows that let all the traffic noise in. Renovation is all the rage. Look into it.

Questions contemplated this weekend:

1. Is there anything more inherently funny than the words "puppet butt"?
2. Now that you've thought about puppets' butts can you get the phrase out of your head?
3. No?
4. How many girls can fit in a hammock on the first nice day of Spring?
5. How many girls can fit in a hammock on the first nice day of Spring without bringing it crashing to the ground, thereby destroying said hammock?
6. Is there a secret pact shared by all the couples in Urbana to stroll hand in hand through the neighborhood at approximately 6PM on Sunday evenings?
7. Does echinacea throat spray help nip a sore throat and cold in the bud?
8. Does it also taste like hot ass?
9. Is spilling a combination of melted butter and sugar into the burner holes of your gas stove in an apartment that is already infested with ants a good idea?
   
10. Did your apartment complex clean the filter in your air conditioner last week when they said they would?
11. Does re-formatting your MP3 player's hard drive and re-loading the content clear up the problem you were having installing the Audible audio books?
12. Does this make you hate your MP3 player just a little bit less?
    

Answers:

1. No.
2. No.
3. Puppet butt, puppet butt, puppet butt, puppet butt. Mission accomplished then. Let's move on.
   
4. Three.
5. Apparently, the answer to that one would be... two.
6. Observable data points to yes.
7. Yes.
8. Dear God, yes.
9. I'm sure the ants think it was.
   
10. No.
11. Yes. Finally.
12. Maybe. Just a little bit.

Gosh. This was a weekend just full of learning. So, to recap the actual events:

1. Friday night: stayed home with an impending cold. Doped self up on Sudafed, echinacea, and orange juice.
2. Saturday: continued to fight cold. Napped a lot. Bought bright aqua bathing suit at TJMaxx, possibly in an act of Sudafed-inspired insanity.
3. Saturday night: storytelling festival. Got very very nervous. Told story with only minor forgetfulness of plot points. Deluded self that no one noticed. (But if they did, I'm totally blaming it on the Sudafed. And the fact that I couldn't get the words "puppet butt" out of my head.) Went to Baker's Square for post-festival meal and celebratory piece of pie, because of lack of dinner due to earlier nervousness. Halfway through meal, became too tired to even order pie. Went home. Slept.
4. Sunday: baked apple tart as cooking experiment. Inadvertently made ants' day with inappropriate pan-removal technique. Cooked lemoncello shrimp appetizer for Brunch Club. Ate delicious brunch outdoors in lovely sunshine. Sat in hammock. Helped break hammock. Went to store for replacement hammock. Returned home. Napped. Walked around neighborhood.

Annnnnd..... scene.

Well... sort of. I've gone back and re-entered some of the comments that were input using the old comment system. There were a couple that didn't get transferred over, either because I can't add comments to posts that were made before Blogger started its own comments system or because I couldn't figure out which post they belonged to. So if you said something and it's missing now, my apologies!

This is shaping up to be a busy month. Tuesday night I auditioned for the Shower of Words storytelling concert that will be at Verde on the 28th. Of course, I'm still preparing myself for the GSLIS festival this weekend. (Guess it's time to practice, huh?) Next week I go out to San Diego for the DLF Spring forum, and the weekend after that a few of us are planning on going to Madison for a bit of a break and to hear my Aunt Pat at the Northlands Storytelling Conference.

Last night I went to hear Green Mountain Grass at the Iron Post. They played some awesome bluegrass, as usual, and, as usual, I had a little bit of a crush on the bass player.

Thinking about bluegrass reminds me that O Brother, Where Art Thou was on tv a couple of weeks ago. Man, I love that movie. The Coen Brothers really have a gift for dialogue.

Ok, guess it's time for me to R-U-N-N-O-F-T too and get back to work.

Ok, this is just making me giggle. Yesterday when I read Get Fuzzy online I saw this strip where Bucky talks about eating marmot on Valentine's Day. I didn't really get it, but I just figured it was more of Bucky's fascination with weird animals. It suddenly made so much more sense when I found out that this was the version that ran in some papers.




Hooray for papers that won't censor a very funny strip. The best part is Rob's double-take at the end. Valentine's Day what...?

Ok, so normally I could care less about college sports. All of the history and rivalries and stuff just seem like too much baggage to bother with when I just want to watch a game. But of course I've been watching the last few Illini games, and it's been a lot of fun. Yesterday for the semi-final game we ended up at Gudio's. We got seats right at the bar in front of one of the big screen tvs, so we got the best of both worlds. We could see the game perfectly and we also got to be part of the energy of a big crowd. I've put a couple of pictures and some video up on my photoblog. Check it out.

Last night L, D, and I had a cooking lesson from Thad, the owner of Bacaro. We got to wear the cute little aprons and everything. He showed us how to make homemade ravioli (my pasta machine technique needs a lot of work), lemoncello and mint shrimp on buschetta, and a delicious and super-easy apple tart. (Apparently when you're trained at this CIA you don't have to live by the "if I told you I'd have to kill you" rule. Cause that's a rule in the real CIA, right? Note: I know this is not an actual rule.) I'm fairly confident that I could duplicate everything but the pasta at home, and I think I'm going to give the shrimp appetizer a try at the special brunch edition of Dinner Club next week. We also had gelato with the tart, and Thad is planning to sell gelato at Persimmon this summer, which will be an excellent addition to downtown. The only thing that could have made me happier was if Thad had gone through with his idea to open a pommes frites place here in town. Ever since Pekara opened and started serving crepes I've said the only other food I really missed from New York was a nice hot paper cone full of Belgian fries and mayonnaise to dip them in. I totally don't understand why pommes frites stands haven't taken over America. I mean, they're essentially French fries, so it's not like people would be scared to try them, but they're so so much better than any other way of cooking fries ever. Ah well, maybe someday my dream of a pommes frites stand on every corner will come true. Though it's probably better for my exercise regimen that it doesn't.

I might not say it often enough, but my friends are completely and totally awesome. And that's no April Fool's joke, just the plain, honest truth. As Lyle Lovett would say, "I love everybody, especially you."