Busy weekend

The theater listing was wrong so instead of catching a 9:30 screening of "Pan's Labyrinth", we ended up killing time at Barnes and Noble for an hour. I scored a Billy Collins anthology I don't already have and a copy of Who Murdered Geoffrey Chaucer by Terry Jones. I also staged an impromptu reading from Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children - it was this marvelous paragraph describing an aunt so miserable that her misery infected everything, from the baby booties she knitted for her nephew to the food she cooked to the "Datsun of her vengeance" that she drove the family home in. Urtatim ended up buying Rushdie's Haroun and the Sea of Stories after I suggested it as a fun introduction to Rushdie's writing. My Dad lent me Haroun this summer and I've been slowly but surely working my way through this brilliant writer's works. The Ground Beneath Her Feet and The Moor's Last Sigh are brilliant, and I'm enjoying Midnight's Children these days on my lunch break.

Without getting into potential spoiler details, Pan's Labyrinth is brilliant, but will rip your beating heart from your chest and dash it to the cobblestones, then grind it into the cracks with a jackbooted sole as if it is a cigarette to be stubbed out. This is not The Dark Crystal. It's Picasso's Guernica.
Not for children. Not for the faint of heart, but a journey that is well worth taking if you wish to be moved.

And now I must get back to packing for Estrella.

Edit  - Whoo hoo! I just took in two of my favorite cotehardies. Even with a solid inch taken off three different seams they're still a bit on the loose side. Once I hit my goal weight range, I make have to take them apart completely and resize them.