Saturday, summer movies, a departure.

Move out day for youngest
means dress up day for Bruiser.

Today, I kept working on my book situation. But first I cooked some oatmeal, to fortify myself. I spent just about the whole day. Fiction, nonfiction, literary theory and criticism. Two words: dust, and order. I had an intimate relationship with the former, and a grateful relationship with the imminence of the latter. I am currently sitting in a room where the books are in their places on the shelves, practically singing their names to me, and jostling in a friendly manner up against their various neighbors. It's a good feeling.

At 2, my son, who was wreaking order out of the basement, because he is in the process of moving out, came up and asked me if I wanted to get a sandwich. I practically dropped the books/dust from my hands and said YES. Because the Lord only knew how very much I needed a sandwich at that moment. We ate and chatted, and then returned to our respective tasks.

A bit later, he packed his worldly goods, wadded into white garbage sacks, into the van of his friend, and drove away. So we did the only sensible thing: went to a movie.

Actually, this weekend we saw two movies--Spy and Love and Mercy. Here are my thoughts and recommendations.

1. Spy is a winner, because it is super funny. I loved it, the historian liked it, my son liked it. Melissa McCarthy is at her best. Allison Janney: hilarious. Jude Law: very good. Jason Statham: a comic performance to cherish for the ages. Same director as the amazingly funny Bridesmaids, Paul Feig, and this is just as funny and just as wonderful, as fresh and irreverent and sharp, and feminist to boot.

2. Love and Mercy has a more experimental form, in some ways, and has some long spots--also, it tells a story with some dark and sad parts. But ultimately, the story of how Brian Wilson found his way back to enough health and well-being to take up music again. Since I got home, I've been watching this beautiful documentary about Smile, and it is making me cherish the music anew.

I recommend both, with the following caveats: see Spy if you know you will enjoy a ridiculously entertaining and hilarious movie with many many swears, and also some comic spy-type violence and gunplay. I looked away once or twice. But I laughed a countless amount of times. See Love and Mercy if you love that music, definitely--and if you love music and love thinking about how such music gets made.

We drove home in a rain and lightning storm, and took Bruiser for his walk in the cool after. And now, it's very quiet.

Return of the repressed.

Last night when the arson, I mean fireworks, started, I felt a sudden tickle, not to say scratch, in my throat.

I thought, am I getting sick? I coughed a few times, experimentally. Then not so experimentally. I coughed phenomenologically. Or perhaps existentially. It was a for real cough, not a trial.

The historian asked, "Are you coming down with something?"

I said, "I don't know." I thought about it. "I think it might just be the smoke." Because, as you know, the people, in a patriotic suburban neighborhood such as my own, the fourth of July is Fireworks City, and we're not just talking about a few sparklers.

We went out into the night, late, with Bruiser. We navigated the smoke like Aguirre in Aguirre, the Wrath of God navigating the Orinoco River on a misty morning.  I coughed a few more times.

I went to bed and thought, I'll wake up in the morning, the smoke will be cleared, I'll be fine.

the view from Sick.

But when I did wake up this morning, my head and eyes heavy, sneezing, I thought, shit. And took a DayQuil.

(Parenthetical: The people: I need to see a movie today. We have had all sorts of important and fun activities, many of which have kept us away from the SLC on the weekends. We are behind in our movie-going. This, despite the fact that I have made many efforts to see movies such as the Joss Whedon Much Ado About Nothing, Frances Ha, Oblivion, Man of Steel, and others I can't remember at the moment because of my heavy head and eyes. I was and am counting on this weekend to make a dent in that deficit! Is that too much to ask? I ask you! I mean really.)

After the historian's bike ride, and my second DayQuil:

Me: ...but I want you to know, I'm going to try really hard to feel good enough so we can go to a movie this afternoon.

The historian: Well, please do your best.

Me:  I'm going to give it my best effort.

Splinching.

I am kind of like those kids in the Harry Potter books learning to disapparate, but failing: one part of the body in one place, another part of the body in another place.

Right now, my head, elbows, wrists, spleen, and lower back are still grading.

However, my hands and heart and, I guess, a part of my brain started getting things in order today: I began the process of cleaning out my closet which resulted in a lot of clothes to give away. I would show you a picture, but then I could never show my face amongst civilized people again. All the research I had done (I will leave you to guess in what sorts of sources I did my research) said that organizing one's closet would take a whole day, but no--only a couple of hours. On the other hand, I haven't started on shoes yet.

Also, I researched the bus routes in the hood so I could use my spanking new bus pass this summer and beyond.

Did I go to a movie this afternoon? No. Will I be able to go to a movie in the afternoon this week? Probably not. But for sure next week. A movie in the afternoon is the acid test: am I out of school? Is it summer yet? If I am at the movies in the afternoon, then yes!