Monday, March 06, 2006


I'm sure some consulting group somewhere does a study on the effects of a certain Sunday night awards show on Monday-morning productivity. But I don't need consultants to tell me that I am moving slooooowly this morning. Which is unfortunate, since I have two deadlines today and another next week for which I have done absolutely nothing.

We had our traditional Oscar party last night. One year we all got dressed up, thrift-store red-carpet style; wish I could find those pictures. Last night the fancy dress rules were suspended, and we just had a living room full of pals, a bunch of snacks (most of which somehow ended up right. in. front. of. me) and a lot of snarkiness. Astoundingly, not only did I stay awake for the whole damn thing, but we actually had one friend make it to the bitter end as well. I'm not sure either of those events has happened before.

Thoughts on the show? Well, you can guess my feelings about Crash winning best picture. Predictable, but irritating. I think Brokeback Mountain overall got hosed, though at least Ang Lee and the screenwriters (and the composer?) were recognized. And I think both Reese W. and Philip S. H. were deserving of their awards. (Incidentally, we watched Walk the Line and Pride & Prejudice this weekend, both of which were very good. I was surprised at how sad Walk the Line was in parts; I'm not sure if it was the pregnancy hormones or what, but I found myself in tears when June Carter's family babysits Johnny Cash through his withdrawal from his pill (painkiller?) addiction.)

The snark was also predictable: What the hell was Charlize thinking with that big bow? What the hell were Heath Ledger and Michelle Williams thinking? And, boy, isn't Billy Crystal looking worse for the wear. I think he's slowly turning into Mickey Rooney.

So, today, D and I are both dragging. Feeling like we may be getting sick -- we've both been a little sneezy since we spent Saturday afternoon at Salvation Army, looking at dusty furniture, followed by a sojourn in his parents' extremely mildewy basement. The lack of sleep last night made matters worse, as did the consumption of large amounts of sugar (though I have to say that my traditional Academy Awards whoopie pies turned out quite well). It would be a disaster if I got sick this week; I'm scheduled to head to NJ on Friday for a quick visit with my parents and grandparents, then to Philly for a 24-hour girls weekend with my fantastic pals S. and R. So I'm hoping to power through my work, run out to a local baby store to check out a stroller model we're interested in and then come home for a restorative nap.

One last random thought before I return to the work at hand: I know for many people signs of spring include crocuses popping up through the soil, snow melting and songbirds returning. For us, the inviolable sign of spring is when the soft-serve place down the street reopens. Yesterday, the plywood came off the windows, and one of our guests reported that it looked open when he drove over last night. I suspect that was wishful thinking, but opening day will surely arrive this week. And that means that that winter soon will end, and that I get to finish the second trimester and sail through the third on the strength of Barn-Like Dairy Freeze.