grr

I feel perfectly fine except for a deep, wracking cough that started a little right as I was going to bed last night but this morning was an avalanche that took out my ability to speak. Seriously, as in can't. So now I'm MUTE. And somewhat worried about my vocal cords. But I'm drinking honeyed tea to make that better. I hope. Gir.

I've got a politics post half-finished, I'll post it today to clear out the queue before Monday's possible explosion.

someone needs to rescue tim burton from his animal tranquiliser habit

I wish that Tim Burton would stop making crappy movies when we know full well he's entirely capable of making very, very good movies. The Corpse Bride is dull, vapid, and has the character depth of a 1960s stop-motion Christmas special but without the promise of massive near-future avarice to keep your attention.

Seriously, twenty minutes in, I was reminding myself that it's a very, very short movie, so I could feel better about knowing that it would be over sooner than it would be if it were a longer movie. But even then, I thought about bailing early to go take a nap in my studio back at 5038. Then I thought, "Well, if I fall asleep here, they'll wake me up when it's time to go."

To its credit, I did not, in fact, fall asleep. There were... two? genuinely funny moments, one reasonable conceit, and some piano playing that wasn't entirely bad. And that's about it. Seriously, what wasn't rote was just random; visually it had nothing that wasn't done better in Nightmare Before Christmas (a movie that had its own serious, serious problems); it had all the sparkle of last year's Hot Topic fashion misses and all the depth of the tweener suburbanite still wearing them. The best part of the movie was not having to pay for it. Thanks for the pass, mamishka! ^_^

I mentioned all this to Anna in IM (since I still CAN'T TALK) and she said, quote, "I couldn't really work up the enthusiasm to be actively bored." To wit, yikes.

We didn't even get to eat the Best Pho. We tried, but Than Brothers was busy and there were too many of us, so there was a decision made to try a new place two doors north. I can't remember what it's called, but it's new, has a nicer serving area, and is on the same side of the street. We'll call it Merely Adequate Pho; it's okay, but they certainly weren't as good as Than Brothers, or even, really, as good as the Pho place in Woodinville we can bike to. Plus: no creme puff, tho' they tried to make up with it by serving little rice crispy treats. Points for effort, but the execution isn't there yet.

Sunday's miles: 3.1
Miles out of Hobbiton: 471.6
Miles out of Rivendell: 11.8
Miles to Lothlórien: 450.2

In more pleasant news, we had a lovely walk down to the last farmer's market of the season; the weather was cool and damp and lovely in that autumnal way, and I'm sure it had to be my imagination, but I'd have sworn I caught a hint of the promise of snow in the air, a delusion no doubt encouraged by discovering a pile of leftover shave-ice that packs just like snow and with which I lightly pelted Anna when she was least expecting it. Yay, impossible snowballs! I love you so. We got to the market just before it closed, which let me buy corn and some extremely tasty peaches. I'll miss it, but several farmers have already planned to return next summer, so it's apparently a success. Yay!