Monday, Monday... Bleh.

Had to get that out of the way. There's this certain something in the air this morning that assures me this is going to be a hell week. Yeah, I know, only three days of work -- but. I can feel it. They're going to be a really bad three days. Maybe I'm wrong. I've always found assuming the worst can lead to pleasant surprises. (Or, to be fair, the confirmation of the horrible, but at least you're expecting it.)

Yesterday was a good day. One of those beautiful, too-warm late autumn days that really is a gift. We left our jackets inside, mostly. Had a nice brunch. Went to the comic shop. (Y: The Last Man -- if you haven't started reading this, do so immediately.) Came home and got George the Dog, Poster Boy for American Values, and made him very, very happy and very, very tired by taking him for a nice ramble around the trails at the University of Kentucky Arboretum. It's a lovely stretch of greenspace right in the middle of Lexington, and yesterday we discovered that there's a nice little wooded trail dogs are allowed on. Yay!

After that we decided to blow off the pretentious coffee shop and stay home on the couch. We watched Death to Smoochy, which was wayyyy better than I expected. It's not a cult classic, but it may be better than some of them. I thought it was funny and if nothing else it's worth watching for the climactic ice show featuring Ed Norton in a purple rhino suit surrounded by his team of little people and a woman with a Viking horn that looks more like a unicorn horn glued to the middle of her head. (Yeah, I know that last sentence needs some work, but it's a blog for chrissakes. Editing must be minimal.) If I had to diagnose what doesn't work, I think the flick philosopher gets close, though she's a bit less forgiving than I am. Of course, it's pretty obvious from her review that she's been forced to endure a lot more hours of Barney than I have.

Then we talked to Gavin for a bit (on the phone, not telepathically), watched about 30 minutes of the Cameron Crowe John Cusack, Ione Skye commentary track over Say Anything, and decided we were slouching toward bedtime. (If you've suspected in the past that Ione Skye's not really all that smart, well, you're probably not wrong. She did admit to hanging out with the Zappas a lot when she was a kid.) Talked to Richard for a bit before sleeping (again, via phone, not telepathy) about Shaker Village at Pleasant Hill and other stuff.

But really, I think we're all just glad that everything's right with the world because Graceland has accepted that, yes, it depends on the kitschiness of strangers to survive. Have a better Monday.