Time Out of Bounds, Part I

So the snow keeps falling (or drifting) and it looks like a snow-globe in the courtyard outside my window...there's something about a blizzard that innocuates the senses and instills a malaise that can only approach a sense of futility.

Time to watch a movie.

So I grab and pop open "Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels" and, having seen it a few times prior, run through it laughing and smiling pretty much the whole way. Hatchet Harry, Barry the Baptist, Big Chris and Rory Black, aka the "little freak with an afro" are among the cast of misfits that populate this movie. And despite the language barrier -- the cockney slang, some of which was completely invented for the film (a la "Things To Do In Denver When You're Dead), is thicker and harder to decipher here than a complete foreign language -- the film is genuinely and thoroughly entertaining. Some of the best on-screen moments result from Vinnie Jones as "Big Chris" pummeling an occupant of a tanning booth, but that's only scratching the surface. A keeper no matter what time of day or night, provided you've got a good home theater system and either solid, insulating walls or easy-going neighbors.

I got some work done and made some foodstuffs, although boiling up a pot of pasta and throwing together a roasted garlic marinara sauce isn't the stuff of gourmet legend. These days, with the minutes growing shorter and the deadlines coming faster and even more furious, I'm just happy I get the chance to do some cooking of "real" food every now and then (without burning down the kitchen). Mission accomplished this day.

So I am off to ring my other half...she having fun at a casino somewhere in Tahoe and me barely able to leave my building. The snow should tail off sometime tomorrow in NYC so I am looking forward to being able to finish up my work tomorrow afternoon right before the NFL kicks into gear and watch a few hours thereof before I get to shut down the weekend and go back into high gear Monday morning.

It occurs to me as I wind down for the night that blizzards should never be allowed to destroy an entire weekend, unless said weekend is going to spent entirely in one's office. So I guess I can't, and shouldn't, complain. Then again, I have a feeling I would have found a way to be out and about at some point had the entire world not been blanketed in white. So I'm heading to sleep, allaying judgement until I see what kind of day tomorrow is. I'm not sure if I want it to just keep snowing, or if I'd prefer if it was smooth and clear tomorrow so Monday morning's commute is easier; in either case, tomorrow is another day (well, it's actually later, but never mind that).

To be continued...