Hmmmm... Bet you thought The Spooks came and got me because of the JFK/Roswell thing, right? Let's just say it was a long interview.

Let's make that a long weekend, with lots of driving here and driving there for dinners. (Three for Christopher's family; just one for mine.) Lots of nice music in the car, like Suzanne Vega's Songs in Red and Gray, Tift Merritt's Patsy-o-licious Bramble Rose, Catherine Wheel's Wishville, and several wonderful Uncut magazine samplers. Happy sigh on car-music-listening.

There were things, lots of things, to divulge here, but I seem to have forgotten most of them. Once I get my Christmas pressie digital camera then I'll be able to just put up pictures of George or the freakish light display at Betty's (of Betty's Country Cookin' fame) house at times like these when the blankness descends. (Damn government spooks.)

I finally read Resurrection Man by Sean Stewart. One of Sean's only novels I hadn't read and just as great a read as all the others. (This really isn't meant to be the all Amazon links post, but Sean's website says it will be up soon and is impossible to get to right now. And well, I've got Amazon up, so... Sorry, Gavin.) Interesting to see how the same kind of world evolved into Galveston. And I read other stuff. Blah, blah, blah. Being back at work is really challenging my Ability To Be Interesting skills.

We also have watched many episodes of Sports Night, a wonderful show which only had two seasons. But what great seasons they were, and they're out on DVD now. Aaron Sorkin writing in fine form, doing a lot of the same things re: dialogue and social commentary he does now. It's not as polished as The West Wing, but this show doesn't suffer for that. It has a kind of energetic earnest quality that manages not to be annoying or preachy (even when it's being annoying or preachy). Christopher loves it and keeps trying to tell me it's about sports, but I say it's about relationships.

And I can't believe Kristin left out the absolute most important thing about Reign of Fire -- the crusading Americans call themselves "The Kentucky Irregulars." A damn fine nickname, in a darn enjoyable movie.

(I realize that I'm doing bizarre sometimes italics with titles, sometimes bolding, and what's up with that? Do not let your head explode. There is no method to my madness. Consistency is for those with energy, time and inclination.)

Oh, go read Rich Horton's excellent Say... was that a kiss? review. I wish he'd gotten the poems, but I admire him for saying this type of poetry just isn't his cup of hot liquid rather than flailing at them. Yay!

That's all for now, before I bore myself to tears or link myself into oblivion or permanent servitude to Amazon.

I hope the goose, the turkeys and the pie were good. And the tofu too.

(Someone tell Christopher to stop sticking out his tongue when I look away.)