Random weekend observations

Kelly and I made applesauce out of the apples graciously donated by Marta’s mother. Not only was it easy, but it turned out better than I should have reasonably expected. I’ve never been able to stand soft apples – if it isn’t crisp and crunchy, it has no business going into my mouth (pull your mind out of the gutter). Now that I know it only takes a modest amount of effort to transform them into delicious sauce, soft apples will never again go to waste on my watch. Now if I could only figure out how to make banana bread, I could salvage all of my overripe fruit.

The Butterfly Effect is passably decent, but sort of a ridiculous movie. Like Primer, it takes a novel approach to time travel, but unlike that awesome movie (or the two awesome movies which went before it, Back to the Future and Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure), it does a very poor job of navigating the murky waters of paradoxes. Plus, Ashton Kutcher should never, ever play a dramatic character. It is completely beyond him. On a side note, we had a vigorous debate about which movie, of the above, had the most plausible method of traveling through time, and unanimously gave the honor to Bill and Ted. Something about the phone booth just makes it work on a very deep, instinctual level.

I need to stop listening to Bright Eyes. It makes me too sad.

Saturday night Joslin lured me to a house party with the promise of granola girls. She was lying about that, as it turns out, but she was telling the truth when she mentioned the copious amounts of free booze. I managed to drink far more than I needed to before the keg was tapped.

After coming home and making toast the same night, I drunkenly broke my third jar of marionberry jam since returning from Europe. I cleaned up the mess of course, but it’s not like I’ll have to deal with anything I missed. The sad part was I had just mopped the floor earlier that day in hopes of impressing Nathan’s parents. Drat.

My editor really needs to show me some discipline. I keep pushing back the effective deadline of my column until its procrastination eats up my entire Sunday. That’s not the bad part. The bad part is that I refuse to start any real homework until after I’ve sent off my article – 1:30 last night, 2:45 the week before. This is why I’m always so tired.

Posted in Musings.