We rented Secret Window the other night. I have nothing to say, really, about the movie itself — there are worse ways to spend a chilly evening at home and it's always a pleasure to watch Johnny Depp.
The scariest thing about the movie was learning that the soundtrack came from Philip Glass. The soundtrack was barely there, which is generally a good thing for soundtracks. But a Philip Glass soundtrack has its own movie presence. I thought.
He should definitely spend less time on film and more time on opera. (I would kill for a recording of "The Making of the Representative for Planet 8.")
We celebrated Father's Day quietly. Helena had picked out a book, On Mars, for Papa when we were downtown earlier in the week (well, she pointed this one out over another I'd suggested from the bargain bin). We had a fancy breakfast, which means we had French toast with stuff instead of regular toast with stuff. It was a nice day.
The Bloc Québécois have been working hard. They've updated all their posters, slapping a big red sticker across them to punctuate their message. "Le 28 juin, on vote!"
The Bloc are to date the only party to have tried contacting me directly. They've phoned no less than four times. Now if they only took a moment to figure out how to pronounce my name (really, it's not that hard), I might give them a minute of my time. Damn ethnic vote.
Helena is happy, happy, happy these days. I swear she was singing (la-la-la-ing) Beethoven's Fifth yesterday (it's our banana song: Bananana. Bananana. Banananabanananabananana...).
Notable new and improved words (in no particular order): up, cup, elbow, mango, belba-a (bellybutton).
Something like "kine" or "cayenne" denotes either crayon or colouring, or both.
Though "cin, cin" comes out "gan, glan" (it is more onomatopoeic), she definitely has the ritual of clinking glasses down pat.