formerly a fearless temp

If you only see one Heath Ledger movie this January, I wholeheartedly suggest you get yourself to a theater and check out Casanova. I am being serious! I saw Brokeback Mountain and yes, it was a marvelous movie, but not as marvelous as the short story – and I swear I'm not one of those obnoxious "but the book is better!" people about everything. Jim Gaffigan has a really funny routine on this topic that culminates with the line, "Yeah, you know what I liked about the movie? No reading." And that's kind of the problem I had with Brokeback Mountain – the story is just so beautifully written that I'm not sure any movie could have captured the feeling I got from the way Anne Proulx's words fit together. The acting was phenomenal, the cinematography marvelous, and it was certainly faithful to the story but, in the end, just not as good as the short story was for me. It's the reading!

Casanova, on the other hand! Casanova was MARVELOUS. I went to see it on Saturday with some friends and didn't have the highest expectations, knowing it had gotten middling reviews and all that (it's rotten on Rotten Tomatoes, so you can take my endorsement with a grain of salt), and the magic of lowered expectations may be the reason I found it to be the more awesome of the two Heath Ledger movies I saw in the past ten days. You know how sometimes, rarely, at the end of a movie, you find yourself turning to your friend and saying, "Well, I loved that movie!" That's the kind of movie Casanova was for me.

I mean, bear in mind: Ten minutes before the movie ended, someone in the theater exclaimed, "Well, that's RIDICULOUS," and I have to say, if you're the kind of person who cannot handle ridiculousness in a movie, then this movie may not be for you. But if you value ridiculousness, the good kind of ridiculousness, then I think you should check this movie out. And if you're wondering about good/bad ridiculousness: Good ridiculousness is Bringing Up Baby. Bad ridiculousness (a.k.a. guilty pleasure ridiculousness) is the TV movie I caught ten minutes of earlier today (starring Jay Thomas and a veritable smorgasbord of 90s TV talent – Amy Jo Johnson, Michelle Williams, Mario Lopez, Neve Campbell's abusive boyfriend from Party of 5). Personally, I enjoy ridiculousness in all its forms. Much like chocolate, I enjoy it in all its permutations.

It was just a very fun, funny, satisfying movie, with swordfights and mistaken identities and cross-dressing and jokes about the Pope and really pretty scenery. It's also one of those rare movies where the ending comes and it's just right. I loved it.

The other highlight of my weekend happened on Saturday, with my regular weekend tutoring session with R. We have fifteen minutes of reading at the end of our sessions, and recently we've been switching between auto magazines and Dr. Suess books (he really likes Dr. Suess – then again, who doesn't?). Anyway, I grabbed Green Eggs and Ham from the kids' section, and he opened it for the first time and proceeded to READ almost ALL of Green Eggs and Ham BY HIMSELF. The only reason he stopped before the end was the library closing down around us. I know this does not sound like much, but for someone who a year ago put up a months-long struggle over learning the word "put," it's a pretty exciting thing! I was so excited, he was so excited - it was a pretty great moment.

I put this here to mark the date for my personal records and, yes, to brag a little bit. I will be honest. But it isn't a completely selfish bragging event: I will be benevolent with my bragging and tell all of you that it was a truly awesome feeling for both R. and yours truly, and one any of you (who has time in your schedule) could experience for yourselves by becoming a Literacy Volunteer. You, too, could have your very own illiterate factory worker who looks like Santa Claus!

I should probably finish my work. I will hate myself tomorrow for being up this late. Oh well.

There are 86 million, but I will limit myself to the following for the moment:

1. GO TO BED.

2. Obtain money order, because I have totally caved to parental pressure and have decided to send in money for the MOST UNFAIR TICKET EVER instead of showing up in court Tuesday night (the night before I leave the country) to Fight the Man. Briefly: Ticket was issued three weeks ago when I parked overnight on the street in front of my aunt's house. There were no signs restricting parking, nor was there snow falling to justify a snow emergency, nor was I on a busy city street where parking is an issue. This was a suburban development just like the one I live in, where I park my car on the street every night! But I got a ticket for illegally parking overnight. I called the town and was informed that the parking restrictions are posted every November in the town's weekly newspaper and that they're posted at the entrance to town. I drove in at night! Am I supposed to wear infa-red goggles to see such things? AM I, YOUR HONOR?

I was all prepared to make that argument but my mother was stressing out so much about me being there for HOURS and NOT HAVING TIME TO ADEQUATELY PACK and ETC. that I finally caved and wrote a strongly worded letter to enclose with my ticket and check.

THE BASTARDS.

3. Create lesson plans for R. to work on with his girlfriend while I'm away. This may not happen because I am the WORST LITERACY VOLUNTEER EVER and I completely forgot to do this over the weekend, and now will have to frantically throw something together tomorrow afternoon, sometime after getting the money order but before I meet with him for our last session pre-my-vacay.

Note: The literacy stuff has been going very well. I got some very nice feedback from his girlfriend and would like to take a moment to encourage people to take part in this - it's been a really rewarding experience for me, and the time commitment (once you get past the training) really isn't that bad. Basically, I have two hours of lessons, two hours of lesson planning, and two hours of driving time per week, max. That's six hours, and I know that a lot of people are so busy that cramming those six hours just isn't possible and would negatively influence their quality of life (and I totally get that), but if you have those six hours and it sounds like something that appeals to you, it's a great experience.

Here's a link to find a program in your area: http://www.literacyvolunteers.org/locator/

4. Take my grandfather to the dentist, which should be interesting since my father has just informed me that my grandfather is not aware of this appointment, and may not want to go. Awesome! So that's my morning tomorrow, wrestling him into the dentist's chair.

5. LAUNDRY. And, secondary to this, MAKE FINAL CLOTHES CUT for trip. I do not need 30 outfits for a two-week trip.

6. PACK. Right now I'm bringing three pairs of shoes and three different jackets/coats. I feel I cannot narrow this down further or I will die of hypothermia or improper-shoe-itis.

7. Figure out if brother's VCR is programmable since two other VCRs have died cruel, sudden deaths. CANNOT MISS AMERICAN DREAMS.

8. Return book to library that has been missing since last November! What a glorious day it was when I found you, Bandits by Elmore Leonard. I have spent the last two months cursing myself for giving in to Library Euphoria, the malady I fall victim to when I realize that the nice people at the desk will let me just walk out of the building with ANY BOOK I WANT for FREE (plus any late fines that have accrued since our last visit). I start picking up books I have never wanted to read in the past and probably never will, but oh! I really liked Out of Sight! And this book was made into a movie too, with Bruce Willis, who I loved in Moonlighting! Why not pick it up? And then I lose it and get a threatening letter from the library telling me I owe them $28.00 if I don't bring the book back, and oh! CURSE YOU, LIBRARY EUPHORIA!

But now I have the book back and only face the late fines which will, most likely, total as much or more than the book's price.

9. Frantically order what should be comfort reads from Amazon.com so as to have something to read on the plane that will take my mind off of my SOUL CRUSHING FEAR OF FLYING. I was planning on bringing the biography of John Adams but - though I love John Adams - methinks some Georgette Heyer may be more easily processed while experiencing SOUL CRUSHING FEAR.

Ah, I so love that I am ordering these mere days before my departure! One must always create new things to stress over.

10. See Item 1. To bed!

I am at peak performance here. A few notes from the last couple of days.

-Monday I had another tutoring session with R., which went very well. I also spoke to his supervisor on my lunch break, which went as well as it could have given the circumstances – everywhere I eat lunch feels compelled to pump their establishments full of easy listening or classic rock music at top volume, which makes it challenging to have any kind of conversation. Add in a bunch of fellow lunch eaters and questionable cell phone reception, and you've got a recipe for fun!

The conversation actually went fine. She assured me they had realistic expectations, etc etc. "As I said to D., thirty sight words or so," she said.

Which kind of makes me want to kill D., the local literacy volunteer organizer, because when I talked to her last week and asked if she'd spoken to the company about expectations, she was all vague and brushed me off. She said, "Why don't you just call her?"

I was sitting on a park bench in sub-freezing temperatures at the time (the place where I'd been having lunch had awful reception for my phone, so I had to abandon my salad half-eaten to go outside and call her back), and it took everything in me not to snarl, "I don't know, maybe because you get paid for things like that?"

Okay, so it didn't take everything in me not to do that – I'm a wimp. I would never do anything like that. Also, you know, I signed up for this, etc etc. But I signed up for tutoring! Not navigating the dangerous waters of a strange company's HR office and employment policies!

And so I just said, "Sure! Fine! I'll get right on that!"

Tutoring itself went fabulous, which was good because last week was a tough one – he seemed to have forgotten everything we'd worked on. But this week, it all came back and more. He knew the "ch" sound. It was thrilling.

-File under Nightmares Do Come True: Yesterday I got into work, got my Mets Mug o' H2O, and settled in to check my e-mail (how I start every day). Was in the middle of typing in the web address for my e-mail when the phone rang and I answered, quite naturally, "Aolmail – dot – aol – dot - com." Five seconds of confused silence later I realized what I'd done and said, in my best I'm A Professional, No Really Voice, "I'm sorry, please excuse me. All Irish Law Firm, can I help you?"

I wanted to die.

-I almost cried in Target when they did not have The Office Christmas Special in stock. But then I bought popcorn and read an awesome story and felt better, which was good, because at my next stop (WalMart Supercenter; I was all about the big box stores last night), I had the following conversation with my mother, the one, the only, Peg of the Cautionary Tale.

Self: So, you want me to get you Turkey Tetrazinni?

Mom Unit: If they -- wait. It's dark out.

Self: …Yes.

MU: Don't go. Just come home. I'll have noodles with butter. There are crazy people out there! Remember, that girl --

Self: Mom, it's fine! There are a ton of people around, I'll be just fine.

MU: Be careful.

Self: Hmm, I was planning on wandering around aimlessly with my eyes closed, fists full of money, to the darkest areas of the parking lot, but if you –

MU: JESSICA

Self: I'll be careful!

MU: Don't get kidnapped!

Self: Right right, don't get kidnapped and bring home Turkey Tetrazinni.

So a few minutes later, when I was walking through the dark parking lot, remembering all of the scary stock footage I've seen of girls getting snatched from parking lots, and a big green SUV came to a sudden stop right next to me, I kind of had a heart attack.

Self: AAAH!

Michelle: Jess?

S: Oh! Hi! Michelle! And Meg! Hi!

Michelle and Meg: Hi! You all right?

S: Fine, fine, just, you know, thought you were a scary kidnapper.

MaM: . . . oh.

S: My mother – I was on the – never mind. Long story. Walk in together?

And we did. Meg had little Abigail with her, so I got to coo and poke at her little covered-in-winterwear-belly, and talk like an idiot. All that good stuff. We did the high-pitched-girltalk thing, argued over who had lost weight ("You!" "No, you!"), when most likely none of us had, and then parted ways in produce because I had to get to my next destination pretty quickly.

-Speaking of: My next destination was my grandfather's nursing home, where I came upon him already snoozing. The woman at the desk told me to wake him up, and he seemed happy that I did. It kind of blows my mind that anyone would be happy to be woken up, but I suppose this is one circumstance where even I would be glad.

We talked about exciting nursing home happenings (he's changed lunch tables, and the other day got sick at breakfast. "I flashed the hash," he said, and then, just to make sure I understood, added, "That means I vomited."), his recent doctor's appointment ("I am bigoted against the Jews," he said, in a reflective, kind of apologetic way. "Not that I'd ever admit it. But I liked him."), and Thanksgiving ("Where am I going, again?").

The last two times I've visited he's complimented my alabaster skin and dark hair, which was nice, but sufficiently romance-novel-sounding to feel kind of weird. I know he didn't mean it that way; he's just one of those people who won't say in three words what he can say in seven. This time, no such compliments. But he did, as always, call me Curlyhead.

-This morning I slept until exactly five minutes before I'm supposed to leave the house if I want to be on time for work. The awesome ending to this would be to reveal that I got here showered, well-coiffed, snazzily dressed, and on-time. There is no awesome ending. I didn't get to shower, threw some gel in my hair, put on a default easy outfit (complete with clunky clogs), and arrived fifteen minutes late. Note: I usually arrive ten minutes late. So to be just five minutes later after sleeping a half hour late? Not too bad!

And yes, you did that math right – I do get up a half hour before I'm supposed to leave for work. No, I can't get ready for work in a half hour. Yes, that is a problem.

Because of the oversleeping, all day I've felt kind of disconnected from the world. This has done wonders for my work performance. Ten bucks says I'm asked not to come back at the end of the day. I won't come back tomorrow, at the very least: it is the day of THE DREADED GREs. They warrant all caps.

It's a good thing I don't have a three-hour pointless literacy volunteers meeting tonight! Oh wait, I do. Oh well. I will do well or I will do poorly. All I can do is ride the rest of it out.

And possibly sneak glances at my GRE prep book during the meeting.