The plan was to watch the UFC PPV. Hurricane Matthew did not like the plan.
So, out went my power, mid-afternoon, as I was enjoying a weekend nap.
No problem. We moved the whole group to a nearby friend's house. We got takeout pizza and settled in to watch an episode of Parts Unknown before switching to the fights.
Out went the power.
At that point, we gave up.
As a special treat, Sunday morning (I'm posting this Saturday entry on Sunday night), we discovered minor flooding--a couple of inches of water--in my basement. The damage wasn't horrible, except that hundreds of comic books are ruined.
I have not read the bestselling book behind this movie, and I avoided spoilers, so I went into it with no more knowledge of its plot than what the trailers revealed. I'm glad I did that, and I encourage you to do the same, should you also not know the story. Though reactions in our group were decidedly mixed, I enjoyed the film and found it interesting from start to finish.
The movie's story unfolds in bits and pieces that jump around in time, a nice device for a mystery but one that can lead to confusion. Fortunately, I didn't find this one at all confusing, and the pieces built slowly to an interesting conclusion.
What really makes The Girl on the Train worth watching, though, is Emily Blunt's excellent performance. To avoid spoilers I will say only that she is completely convincing throughout a complex series of scenes that involve many aspects of her character.
I will warn that if you are seeking a movie with characters you can consistently like, this one is not for you. No one here is without flaws, and many of the flaws are serious indeed.
If you're in the mood for a tense mystery, check out The Girl on the Train.
Yes, I understand all the criticisms you can reasonably level at her, but I like quite a few of her pop hits, and I refuse to apologize for liking them.
As I've written on multiple occasions, one of the aspects of PT that I'm most proud of is the sabbatical program. Another PT colleague has taken a sabbatical and during it done some charity work. Check out the following video to learn about what he did.
I'm happy and proud to get to work with such great people.
Holden's sister, Pixil, is spending a few nights with us while her owner, Gina, is out of town. Pixil is a planner, a hound who's always playing for the main chance. She also is supremely adept at cranking up her brother just because she can. Combine that with a willingness to bark at a shadow of a leaf, and you have a recipe for barking beyond all reason.
Tonight, for example, Holden was working on a bone in the den while Pixil was, as usual, stretched out in her guest crate on watch for Gina.
Holden coughed a bit on the bone.
Pixil barked to sound the alert: something must be amiss!
Holden ran to join her and began barking, too.
Pixil grew agitated--Holden has confirmed the threat!--and barked louder.
The two of them fed on each other's barks and through the power of their barking turned away whatever threat was menacing us.
I've needed a while to be ready to write a few blog entries about Sarah's and Ben's wedding, but now I'm there. I think.
I thought I'd start with a little soundtrack.
The processional songs began with Phil Cook's "Ain't It Sweet," to which parents and grandparents entered.
Ben joined to a song I wholeheartedly believe he deserves, Josh Ritter's "Good Man." I could not be happier to have Ben in our family, though I feel he's been a part of it for years.
Sarah and I entered--yes, I had the privilege of walking her down the aisle--to Tom Petty's "Wildflowers." Trite as it is to say, I will never hear this song again without returning to that moment and to a love for Sarah so powerful that I am continually amazed my body can hold it. The song is true for me: no other will ever compare with Sarah.
Oh, yeah: we were walking outside, which made it only better.
After the ceremony, the recessional was the lovely "My Whole Life Long," one of many great songs from local wonder Delta Rae. Sarah, Ben, I, and many others in our extended family all love this group.
At the dinner afterward, Sarah's and Ben's first dance was to a song, "My Favorite Place," from another family favorite, Stephen Kellogg.
Last in what I'll play--the evening contained a great deal more music than what I'm including here--was the song to which I danced with Sarah in the traditional father/daughter dance. Even typing these words, my feelings about those moments with her are so intense that I am tearing up. The story behind her choice of this song is a whole blog entry on its own; I may even have written it. I could write another whole entry about that dance, and maybe I will.
The song was John Hiatt's "Have a Little Faith In Me." I can tell you that from the moment she was born I have had for Sarah all the faith I am capable of mustering, and then some.
I have said it for all of Sarah's life, and I will keep saying it until the day I die: I have the best daughter in the world, and I am the luckiest father in the world to have her. I have spent every day since her birth trying to be worthy of her.
My face is now wet, so I have no more to give tonight save this: Sarah, I will always reward any faith you give me. I love you.
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