Quickish and Off the Top of My Head

OK. I’m giving myself 20 minutes to write a blog post. I’ve set the timer and everything. Then I have to take a shower, set the alarm for 5:30 AM, and hit the hay. Discipline must be exercised, i.e., I’ve got to start getting to bed earlier and getting up earlier or I’m going to find myself working 24-hour shifts come about the third week of August. But I don’t even want to think about that. So onward to the post!

First and foremost, I got the rare opportunity to meet not one but two bloggers today—Tinarama and Writermama (plus her two beautiful daughters, her sister, and her nephew). It was a thrill to meet them in person after following their blogs for a couple of years. Tina and I indulged in quite a bit of garden talk, appropriately enough, as we toured the Rose Test Garden and the Japanese Garden. Tina also set me straight on just who this guy is—I’d always thought of him as “the little green man” (he’s usually pretty mossy)—but he has a name and a lovely story. Writermama who (as I knew from her blog) has a real knack for discovering hip and underappreciated places told me about an excellent super-eco dining option in Yachats called (I think) the Green Salmon. I’ve been to Yachats several times and have no idea how I missed this place given that Yachats is a dinky little town. But Writermama arrives from New York City and finds it right away. Talent. Anyway, next time I'm in Yachats, Green Salmon, it is! Also, courtesy of Writermama, I’ll be adding the term “Irish twin” to my lexicon. Anyone else ever heard that term? It was definitely new to me. I wish I could have spent all afternoon hanging out with them, but, sod it, I had to go back home and get some work done.

I saw the move Waitress a couple of weeks back, and I’m still thinking about it. It was written and directed by the late Adrienne Shelly. And after a somewhat shaky start, it developed into quite a witty and insightful movie about the shortsighted choices people make and how relationships can take on a life of their own. (I hope that’s vague enough not to spoil the movie for anyone.) But, for me, the whole thing had this patina of tragedy to it, given that Shelly was brutally murdered soon after the movie’s completion. I had always really liked her.

In the credits, the movie was dedicated to Shelly’s memory, and, wow, after much snuffling and leaking of tears through much of the film, I kind of lost it when I saw that up on the screen. I had to spent about five minutes in the ladies lounge attempting to pull myself together with the aid of wads of toilet paper. Her death just shouldn’t have happened. I guess I found it even sadder to think that she’d made a really good movie and was deprived of enjoying its success. This could have been the start of a promising new career for her as that fairly rare breed, the female film director. And now she’ll never make another.