1) Had my knee checked out. There's some fluid around the joint. Had a PT appointment yesterday and have been given exercises and a treatment plan. We'll see how that goes.

2) Of the three unpublished stories I had out on submission, two have come back rejected. Must get them back in the mail, along with at least one more. The fate of the third still hangs in the balance. Of the three previously published stories I have out on submission for foreign reprints, I have heard back on none of them. Hope springs eternal at Chez scarlettina.

3) Had a lovely visit with kijjohnson. She is most excellent company. What a total delight.

4) Saw a SIFF film on Thursday night that I still need to write up here. In typical SIFF craziness, I have four more scheduled for this weekend, so I need to catch up, STAT!

5) I don't know why--maybe it's my birthday coming up next month--but these lyrics have been playing in my head the morning:

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go
So make the best of this test, and don't ask why
It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.
--"Good Riddance," Green Day

Wonder Women: The Untold Story of American Superheroines: For several generations of American women, Wonder Woman has been an icon of female empowerment and solidarity. This documentary traces her history and influence from World War II through today, and discusses how her character changed (often not for the better) and evolved (into something much better), and influenced the heroines who are her legacy, including the likes of Ellen Ripley, Sarah Connor, Buffy Summers, and others. The historical review and analysis featured in the film is informative and entertaining, and the energy and enthusiasm of everyone involved--from Gloria Steinem to Lynda Carter--is clear and infectious. A delightful 62 minutes, this documentary is well worth watching, and then watching again.

El Gusto: The Good Mood: In 2003, director Safinez Bousbia walked into a shop in Algiers to buy a mirror, and walked out with a mission: to reunite the Jewish and Muslim members of an orchestra formed in the 1950s and torn apart by the Algerian revolution. The group played a form of music called chaabi, a fusion of Arabian and Andalusian music. The film follows the director's quest to find the musicians, to understand the forces that drove them apart, to learn what chaabi is all about, and to reunite them for a concert. We don't learn much about the director's quest to find the individuals featured in the film, but I suspect that's just as well. Though the movie is only 88 minutes long, there were times when I felt that it dragged a little bit though I can't say precisely why; the discovery process would have made it longer. The story of the Algerian revolution becomes the core of the movie, and the music is the binding force throughout the story. It was interesting to hear some of the stories the men told about the war and about their emigration. Hearing the music was fun; it made me want to revisit my brief flirtation with belly dancing. Interestingly, some of the men were shown belly dancing, and I was reminded that it started out as a male art form. (I've seen professional male belly dancers--a whole different experience.) While the documentary was good, and the music terrific, it could have used a little trimming and a little more focused storytelling.

The Central Park Effect: Each year in the spring and the fall, thousands of exotic birds invade Manhattan's Central Park in the course of their annual migration. Through interviews with ornithologists, park officials, and bird watchers, and through really gorgeous high-definition photography, the documentary traces a year in Central Park, explores the whys and wherefores of the phenomenon, and what it means both to New York City and to environmental science. The images of the birds are wonderful, and the interviews with the park's regular bird watchers are delightful. Lean, focused, and beautifully shot, this film is a visual feast and a love letter to birds and Manhattan. I couldn't recommend it more highly. It was delicious to my eyes. And it turns out that HBO will be running it sometime this summer (thanks to varina8 for the tip!).

Glamour in Glass by Mary Robinette Kowal (maryrobinette): The sequel to Shades of Milk and Honey, this volume finds glamourist Jane Vincent and her new husband on their honeymoon in Belgium with friends as well as on assignment to complete a magical mural for a client. The trouble is that Napoleon is on the march, and what started out as a trip promising pleasure, satisfying work, and a cordial exchange of magical knowledge and technique turns into an adventure colored by war and the discovery of a secret that Jane's husband has kept quiet in a rather awkward way that has Jane wondering about his fidelity. I still think that Kowal's magic system is terribly clever and perfectly apropos for the Regency setting. It was interesting to watch as Jane struggled to adjust to a culture and a language different from her own, and quite satisfying to see her come into her own as a glamourist. Recommended.

Death Comes to Pemberley by P.D. James: Continuing in the Regency era seemed to be the way to go, so I picked up this book for a continuation of the mood. In the spate of sequels to classic novels, P.D. James comes with a sequel to Pride and Prejudice in which, happily settled at Pemberley six years into their marriage, Elizabeth and Darcy are set upon by her sister Lydia on the eve of a ball, hysterical and convinced her precious husband Wickham is dead. As it turns out, his best friend is dead, and Wickham is the prime suspect. James does a nice job of evoking the feeling of the Austen books, and occasionally rises to Austen's sharp-eyed social observation and witty commentary. As much as I enjoyed the reading, I constantly felt one step removed from the characters, never truly invested in anyone's distress or success. There is no clever or interesting detective, no characters who evoke genuine sympathy. Elizabeth and Darcy seem most concerned that their peaceful, affluent existence has been disrupted and it's their job to as appropriately as possible dispense with all the unpleasantness. Elizabeth has lost her wit and braininess to proper housewifely duties. Darcy, far more complexly realized, is the more interesting of the two and still, because he's given relatively little agency, isn't terribly compelling. He frets a lot. I was most engaged when the story looked as though the shadow of guilt might be cast across Darcy himself. I think the prime mistake that James made in her choices here was making the plight Wickham's. He's a despicable character and, frankly, I kind of wanted to see him get his comeuppance. If the story, if the question of guilt, had centered around Elizabeth or Darcy, characters a reader might be truly invested in seeing exonerated, I would have found it much more compelling. As it was, it's a puzzle that the reader sorts and puts together but is never truly involved with. Ultimately, it's a little disappointing.

For many of us who grew up in the 1970s, Paul Williams was a constant presence, whether he was on TV or on the radio. He wrote the themes for "Love Boat" and "The Muppet Show," among others. At the time, I think everyone identified with one or another of his songs. For my mom, it was "You and Me Against the World." For me, it was "Rainbow Connection," which I learned to play on my guitar and which I suspect I still can if I fiddle about with it first. He was one of the people in the media who defined the era for me. When I saw the trailer for the documentary about him, Paul Williams Still Alive, I went back and forth about seeing it, and then I decided that my awareness of his presence in that era had been too important for me to miss this film. I felt compelled by that experience, so I went. shelly_rae joined me for the movie.

Stephen Kessler, the director, approaches the story as a fan would: I thought Williams was dead; turns out he's very much alive and well; what's he up to? Williams is not an especially willing or cooperative subject for a documentary. He comes across as baffled by Kessler's interest and a little cantankerous about the project. But once he proposes that Kessler step in front of the camera with him, that they just talk about stuff, things begin to change as does the nature of the project. The film goes from being a documentary about Williams' rise, fall, and recovery to a sort of road movie/buddy flick about the filmmaker and the musician getting to know each other, with Kessler's almost Woody Allen-esque voice-over telling the story. The film, of course, is rich with archival footage of Williams in movies and on television, live performances, and contemporary footage of him, his wife, his longtime music director, and Kessler on the road traveling from gig to gig and talking about Williams' life and career. The movie doesn't dwell overmuch on Williams' addiction and recovery, though pretty revealing moments in the interviews show just how much that experience has colored and changed Williams as a person (he's now a certified recovery counselor and speaks on the subject). But he's also still very much active as a composer and performer, and is the current president of ASCAP about which he is quite passionate. Overall, the documentary isn't anything usual--it's funny and poignant and, in embracing the serendipity of Williams' proposal to step into the frame, Kessler has created a very personal story about two guys--who just happen to be idol and fan--getting to know each other in a unique way. I definitely recommend it.

Kessler and Williams were at the theater for Q&A after the movie, and I stayed to listen. Williams talked with conviction about his work as the president of ASCAP defending the rights of artists. He talked about how "Rainbow Connection," "Evergreeen," and "With One More Look at You" (from A Star is Born) were all written. He talked about working with Brian de Palma on Phantom of the Paradise. He was funny and generous with the audience. Kessler pretty much ceded the stage to Williams though he'd had his moment before the film began, and was very sweet about the whole project.

After they finished their Q&A, Williams and Kessler came down to the side of the theater and talked to audience members. And that's when I realized why I was really there. Sure, I'd been a fan of Williams' work, but I was also there for my mom, to whom "You and Me Against the World" had meant so much. So I went up to him, and I told him I didn't want an autograph or a picture, just to thank him for that song and told him why. He asked me my name, and told me that that's the sort of feedback that meant the most to him, that the song touched someone or made a difference to them. He said that, having been mostly a weekend dad, the song meant a lot to him too. He asked if my mom was still with us; I told him no, but that I was there for her. He was gracious and kind, and held my hand the whole time we talked. I thanked him for his time and then took off, since others were waiting to speak with him. I was really very impressed with him, and I'm glad we got to talk.

Of the 53 films showing at SIFF that I wanted to see (out of more than 400), I've got tickets for 12. It seems a paltry few given the riches available to me. Still, 12 movies is a lot more manageable than the 20 I originally thought to schedule. As previously mentioned, I'm seeing 9 documentaries and 3 narratives. Because this weekend is pretty well-scheduled with four movies (including one tonight), I want to review the first two now, before things swing into high gear.

Under African Skies is a documentary about the making of Paul Simon's landmark album, "Graceland," and his return to South Africa 25 years after the album was released. The documentary balances coverage of the creation of the music with coverage of the political firestorm that erupted when word of the nature of the project came out. Simon went to South Africa in the midst of a worldwide cultural boycott protesting apartheid, and his work there was considered by many to demonstrate tacit support for the government. Of course, that wasn't his point at all. The movie discusses, to a lesser extent, the controversy over whether Simon collaborated with the African artists with whom he worked, or stole their music. At the center of the film is a discussion between Simon and Dali Tumbo, co-founder of Artists Against Apartheid, in an attempt for each to understand the other's point of view on the matter. The conversation is a civil and, I think, honest attempt at reconciliation. The music, of course, is spectacular, and the archival footage of the studio sessions is just marvelous. I think it's a terrific documentary and well worth seeing. It gave me a new appreciation for the music, and reminded me of just how much I like world music in general.

Love Free or Die tells the story of Bishop Gene Robinson, the first openly gay bishop in the Episcopal Church. When Robinson was ordained as bishop, he was forbidden to attend the once-in-a-decade convocation of Anglican bishops, he was the target of death threats, and he was blamed for nearly causing a cataclysmic schism. In the end, the American Episcopal Church voted to officially allow the ordaining of gay bishops and to honor same-sex marriage. The story is one of triumphal progressive change. In the process, the viewer gets to know Robinson, a man whose passionate conviction, faith, and outgoing nature can't help but inspire. This guy gets it. He lives the core of any faith, which is love and compassion first. The contrast between Robinson's love and generosity, and the hate and fear spewed at him and about him is stark and, in some cases, just chilling. At the same time, the director makes a point to include voices that oppose Robinson's ordination out of their own passion and conviction--not out of hate, but out of faith. Those voices, plain and honest, were respectful and treated respectfully, and I laud the director for giving the opposition space to say what they had to say without judgment. An excellent documentary. After the film, the director answered questions. It's been just long enough that I don't really remember the conversation, which makes me sad. But I do remember him being just as passionate about this work as Robinson is about his; it seemed like a good match of project and director.

Tonight, I'll be seeing Paul Williams: Still Alive. This guy was a fixture of my childhood through television and the movies and, like the film director, I had the idea that he was dead. Turns out that he's very much alive and will, in fact, be appearing at the screening. I'm really looking forward to it!

I was all set to get up this morning and review the first two films I've seen at this year's Seattle International Film Festival. I thought I might write about my next big international trip, currently in its delightful planning stages. But no. This morning, you get a rant, because I'm pissed off.

I'm pretty picky about my mornings. I set my alarm clock for a particular time. I enjoy waking up to a kitty who wants to cuddle (even if she's being a pill about it). I enjoy the warmth of blankets long slept in, and the relaxation following a good night's sleep.

But every now and then, this morning pleasantness is broken by a phone ringing, usually somewhere around 6:30-7:00 AM as it was this morning. Now, like most people, if a phone rings at a time outside what might be considered normal, reasonable hours (say, I don't know, 9 AM to 9 PM), I get a little worried. Most people don't call other people outside of said hours unless something is wrong or something is urgent. My experience of such calls is dramatic enough that I get a shot of adrenaline when I hear a ringer, and I will bolt out of bed to get the phone, worried about what I might hear.

This morning, as has happened a couple of other times, the call was from a recruiter with a foreign accent, calling to ask if I was interested in a job opportunity. Sometimes these guys are calling from Bangalore. Sometimes they're calling from Atlanta. I understand that it's this guy's job to make cold calls looking for client prospects. But--DAMN IT--I don't care how polite and well-mannered you are, manners and politesse don't matter if you're calling at a time when someone might be freaked out by a phone call. They don't matter when you're pulling someone out of bed. If your job is to make a sales connection, at least have the brains to look at an area code, a map, and a clock and figure out whether or not a call at such a time might be welcome or might piss off your prospect. These people are probably trained to call at an hour when prospective clients might be home and available--but early in the morning will invariably piss me off.

I have, on occasion, tried to educate such cold callers in as restrained a manner as I possibly can. Really, I try to be polite but firm, and insist that perhaps they ought to be aware that Seattle is three hours behind Newark, twelve hours behind New Delhi, and so on. This morning, I didn't have the patience for that. I was polite but surly (I'm currently employed; no, I don't know anyone else looking for this sort of work) and the caller was bewildered. He was well-trained; he stayed polite and thanked me for my time, but I hung up before he could conclude his patter.

I think the worst thing about this phenomenon is how many of these calls I took when I was really desperate for work, how many of these people tried to engage me, and what they actually did was take my resume and never respond to me again despite normal follow-up. Or they called offering me rates that, in my industry and geographical region, were insulting or inappropriate. Or showed that, despite their statements about my being an excellent candidate for a job, demonstrated that they had never actually read my resume or understood my skill set.

If you're going to do a job, do it well. Do it with forethought and care. Do it with awareness and consideration. And for the love of all that's good, don't--please don't--call me before 9 AM.

1) Did I mention that I put three stories in the mail on submission last weekend? Well, I did.

2) Perhaps I'm last to the party but I just read that the current issue of 10Flash Quarterly is its last. I'm sad that we're losing such a terrific flash magazine (especially since I was there partly to read and partly to look for upcoming issue themes), but I'm happy for K.C. that she's moving on to other opportunities that excite her.

3) varina8 and I went to the theater last night and saw "The Pitmen Painters," a play about a group of miners in England in the early 1900s who start taking an art appreciation class and end up being a highly lauded group of artists. With its historical basis and setting, and its excellent performances (including, among them, one by my longtime associate Frank Andrew Lawler), it provided a fine evening's entertainment.

4) I've been Jewelry Girl this week, making a new bracelet for myself in celebration of acquiring and wearing the first above-the-knee skirt I've owned in decades. And I bought materials for a new choker necklace which I hope to make either this weekend or this coming Tuesday night at mimerki's place, depending upon my patience and the availability of time for such a project. It won't take long, but leisure time, these days, seems to be at a premium.

5) Research for this autumn's trip continues apace. I really do need to do a proper post about this oncoming expedition--but that's for another time. But...trip planning--yay!

BONUS ITEM: 6) Had a wonderful lunch with kijjohnson at the 5 Spot yesterday. Seattle is just a better place when she's here. She looked fabulous, and it was good to catch up and just bask in her presence. Word has it we'll have more of her a little later this spring--all to the good.

Haven't posted much about weight loss lately, mainly because progress has been slow this year. (It's been a bitch of a year, frankly, and so I'm cutting myself some slack for the slowed-down momentum, but it's been hard--which is part of the point of this post.) As of last night's weigh-in, I'm down 56.4 pounds and at a weight I haven't seen in a decade or more. This doesn't make me a sylph, but it's a vast improvement over where I started, and I'm generally pretty pleased with my accomplishment. That being said . . .

During my first year of weight loss, I was averaging a pound per week, more or less. It was enormously satisfying and I felt like I was substantially accomplishing my goal. This year, with the stress, the loss, and the physical uncertainties keeping me from exercising the way I did last year, the weight loss has just been harder. It's come in tiny increments, a quarter to a third of a pound per week. This week, I lost more weight than I have in months--and it was only half a pound. But I also overcame the pain I've been experiencing in my left knee to get out the door and walk. I need to get my knee looked at. Also, I changed my menu--that always makes a difference. The body responds to change.

It's been discouraging to have my weight loss slow down this way. If I do the physical math (portion control plus exercise), then it makes perfect sense; curtailed ability to exercise means slowed progress. But it's really challenging. Staying the course is absolutely imperative, however. Imperative. I won't go back to where I was. And that's what keeps me going, even when I'm feeling bad.

I always told myself that someday I'd be slim and beautiful. (A kind and beloved friend told me recently that I was already beautiful, bless him. My perspective is different from the inside--but I couldn't have been more grateful for the compliment.) But with a landmark birthday coming this year, I'm very aware that I'm running out of somedays. It's now or never--and I'll be damned if it's never.

My to-do list:
-- Get the knee checked out (which means finding a new doctor due to insurance changes).
-- Figure out a way to exercise that doesn't hurt the knee. (My WW leader has suggested swimming. I don't even own a bathing suit at this point, and I'm little uncomfortable with public pools--and with being seen in a bathing suit.)
-- Stay the course.

jaylake says that success at writing takes psychotic persistence. Weight loss, too.

1) Saw The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel on Friday night and enjoyed the hell out of it. A little formulaic, a little predictable, but very well-written and--with that stellar cast of senior British actors--a joy to watch. It was the first time in a while that I've been to a movie by myself, and it was a mixed experience. I usually enjoy solitary attendance at films but Friday night, for some reason, was less than satisfactory, even though I enjoyed the movie itself.

2) Saturday night, I attended ladyjestocost's gallery opening in Georgetown with overratedomac. I've never done the Georgetown Art Walk before, and it was fun to poke in and out of a couple of galleries and see the art. It was also nice to discover a restaurant without recommendations or reviews. We had dinner at Fonda La Catrina--excellent Mexican food, and recommended. Really nice evening. Just wish I got to spend a little more regular time with Omac than I do.

3) Nailed down my SIFF schedule for 2012. I'm seeing only 12 movies this year, rather than the 16 or so I saw last year, despite my interest in many more films than that. The schedule feels a little more reasonable to me given that I'm working a full-time job and don't want to lose hours to the movies. Of the 12 films I'm scheduled for, 9 of them are documentaries. That hadn't been my original plan, but that's how it's worked out. I might try to fit in a couple more fiction films over the course of the festival depending upon what time will allow, but right now I'm pretty satisfied with my choices.

4) It was gorgeously sunny this weekend, and I made a point to soak up some rays. I'm a little sun-kissed as a result, but not painfully so. It's given me a pinkish glow. :-)

5) I am so not ready to go back to work today.

I mentioned recently that I'd been back to the dentist for my first exam in longer than any adult should admit to. Yesterday was my first follow-up appointment. And here's the thing: when I said in that previous entry that dental work is my Kryptonite, I wasn't kidding. The original plan was for me to take a Lorazepam before the appointment and get someone to drive me there and back. Well, I never found someone to drive me, so I went in without the anti-anxiety meds. Upon arrival, I decided that I wanted to try to just tough out the appointment without the laughing gas. I had my iPod with me, after all, and the doctor was committed to making sure I didn't feel any pain.

That lasted about 15 minutes.

So it was me, my music, and the nitrous for about 90 minutes. And then there was the 20 minutes of coming down from the gas and the anxiety, which involved me sucking pure oxygen and dealing with full-body tremors and tears, shaking out the stress. Yeah, that was fun. ::sigh::

And there will be another instance of this delightful business in two weeks for the other side of my mouth. Actually, the dentist says we got two-thirds of the work done in this appointment, so next time shouldn't be quite so bad. I came away with a goodie bag filled with toothbrush, two kinds of toothpaste, floss, a flossing tool, and coupons. Who knew I'd get a toy surprise with my appointment?

Now, I know that if I'd been less freaked out about my dental care, this wouldn't have been so bad. And I know that if I go regularly, normal appointments won't be like this. I'm there already; I don't need to be told. There is nothing rational about my reaction to sharp instruments poking around in my mouth, or being awake for what feels like surgery. Nope, not a bit. It just is what it is.

I finally pulled myself together, and the dentist let me chill in the reception area a bit. She suggested I go home and go right to bed. What I wanted was a walk in the fresh air--and that's what I had planned anyway, because jaylake was in town on business and we'd planned to have dinner together. So I gathered up my stuff and walked the nine blocks to Jay's hotel. A goodly portion of the evening was just sitting in the room catching up because I wasn't capable of much else. We ordered dinner up to the room--I had an absolutely amazing pear and gorgonzola ravioli that was soft enough to eat without distress--and hung out. By the time I headed for home I was in much better shape, though my mouth felt weird. Sleep was easy to come by.

Today, the mouth still feels odd--not especially painful, but odd in that "Someone's been working in my mouth" sort of way. But I'm feeling virtuous and accomplished. Next appointment, I'll go right for the nitrous. I'll bring my iPod again (Oasis is awesome for dental work). And I'll get through it.