I’d been eager to see Unbreakable ever since I started reading about it. The same director as The Sixth Sense, rooted in comic book lore — what’s not to like? I went in with pretty high expectations.

They were met. The film is paced deliberately, with lots of close-in shots and high-gain sound work to provide a sense of intimacy. All the actors do a fine job, though one has to give particular kudos to Samuel L. Jackson, who was wonderful in admittedly the most interesting role in the film. I can’t say much more, lest I ruin some of your enjoyment when you finally see it. So, go see it. Now. All of you. Maybe you can get a group rate. I want to be able to ramble on freely about the film without giving it away.

Lillian Jackson Braun’s The Cat Who Robbed a Bank is nominally a mystery story, but flouts most of the conventions of the genre. There’s never any firsthand narrative with either the killer or the investigators, but instead we follow the murder from a distance through the eyes of a local newspaperman. We’re not given any clues as to the what actually happens at the crime scenes, but are limited to the oblique hints provided by a couple prescient felines. The narrative seems at least as much concerned with antiques and trinkets as with the events. And to top it all off, there wasn’t ever any intimation of a bank robbery, as the title would suggest. But in spite of all that, it’s a relatively interesting read, mainly because of its interesting characters. It just doesn’t sit particularly comfortably on the mystery shelf.

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I thought it would be fun to start posting the occasional photo as part of this journal in addition to my usual inarticulate ramblings, so here’s the first of them.

This is a squirrel I encountered on Loop Street, one of my favorite streets in San Marcos. I especially like the texture of the tree in this photo. Unfortunately, it also shows why fixed-focus lenses can be a bad thing: the depth of the composition is totally flattened out, making it harder to distinguish the subject from the background.

But I do like the tree.

The other night I went shopping for jeans, as I was tired of wearing nice pants to work all the time and being mocked by my casual dress coworkers. As I spent a bit of quality time with a few pairs in the fitting room, it quickly became evident that the time in my life that I could fit comfortably into pants with a 36 inch waist had past. The shame!

So, my resolution: by hook, crook, or strategic use of shoehorns and a vacuum cleaner (don’t ask), I’m going to get back down a couple inches. I’ve been adjusting my sleep schedule so that I can get up early to take walks or to hit the company gym. I’m also trying hard to cut back on my usual gustatory enthusiasm, especially late at night.

Doggone it, if Jim can do it, so can I!

This Thanksgiving was a wonderful one for us. Uncle Ron and Aunt Marty came up from San Antonio along with Tanya, my cousin, and her husband Ken Sonnier. Ron’s turkey was as lip-smackingly tasty as I’d remembered from past holidays, and my cranberry salsa was well recieved, even by my recovering-yankee bride. That contingent was then followed by Dad McMains, Lana, and Meara, who had been visiting Lana’s folks earlier in the day. Lana treated us to one of her fantastic pecan pies, all credit for which she claims should go to her granny, whose recipe she uses, but I’m pretty sure that I’d get different results if I tried to make it. Finally, our next-door neighbors the Isaacs dropped by for some visiting, which was all the more valued since they’re in the process of moving up to Possom Kingdom Lake, where Jake will be running the fish hatchery there.

We decided that this year, instead of killing a tree for that authentic holiday smell, we’d plant a couple of little christmas trees out in the front yard and decorate them instead. Kathy had done most of the hole-digging — a signficant chore in our part of San Marcos, since you hit layers of limestone about 6 inches below the surface — earlier in the week, so it was a relatively simple matter to get them planted on Friday. They look great, and should grow pretty quickly to a more standard christmas tree size in a year or two. (They’re about three feet tall at the moment.)

During the day on Saturday, we popped down to San Antonio and helped Mom McMains and her housemate Julia decorate for Christmas. They really enjoy Christmas decorating, so we scrambled all over the house hanging lights, putting up ornaments, deploying nativity livestock, etc. We had a great time with them and with Gayle, who also dropped by for a bit. Gayle is putting together a website for her photography business, so I should be able to point you to some of her work soon.

Steve, Travis and I played our last weekly gig at the local coffee shop on Saturday night. We were pleased to have Travis back from Russia, where he’d been on a mission trip for the last three and a half weeks. I pulled out the hammered dulcimer for the first time in public for two tunes, one of which went pretty well. It honestly comes as a bit of a relief to be cutting back from weekly performances again. Though I enjoy the gigs a lot, every Saturday was starting to feel like just a bit too much.

Liam charged into the study yesterday as I was setting the synthesizer back up, obviously ready to play. I pulled out a couple of pencils and showed him how to use them to beat out rhythmic patterns on the countertop. That kept him entertained for about 4 seconds. Then he wanted to use the pencils to swordfight. We did that for a few minutes, after which I returned my pencil to him. He manipulated them, fiddling around until he had them crossed at their centers. He then started shouting “Airplane! Airplane!” and zooming his little makeshift aircraft around all over the place. It was the first time I’d seen him come up with something really new without prompting, and my chest swelled with pride at his ingeniousness. (Yes, I know. I’m easily impressed.)

David Brin’s Uplift series is among the best-known in Science Fiction, and with good reason. The series takes place in a universe where all sentient races are “uplifted” by other patron races, who breed and cultivate their client races for intelligence. Humans are a notable exception, as they somehow reached sentience without known help from outside. The Uplift War focuses on the invasion of a human-colonized world by a senior avian race, and combines the appeal of many war movies, where one roots for the ingenious underdogs, with a bit of political intrigue, some human drama, and a good dose of humor. Good reading; I’m looking forward to the rest of the series.

The last time I spoke with Dad McMains on the phone, he mentioned that he was slated to speak at a conference in Las Vegas in September, 2001. I mentioned to Kathy that I thought it would be fun to go out there with him, and to my surprise, she said “I think you ought to go. I’ll take care of the kids.” So, recalling that Ross had mentioned en passant that it would be fun to hit Vegas sometime, I asked him if he’d be interested in crashing Dad’s conference, to which he responded an enthusiastic affirmative. Then I remembered that Chris and Ross had a great time together when he was out west, and that we hadn’t had a time to all get together for ages. I fired off an email to him, and he duplicated Ross’ response. So, it looks like not only will I finally get to see Blue Man Group in person, but I’ll get to do it with 3 of my favorite people! In Ross’ words, I am SUCH A HAPPY MONKEY!

I really like the days before holidays, as everyone in Austin seems to take off early, making my commute almost pleasant.

We’re getting ready to have family over tomorrow for Thanksgiving dinner. I think it’s the first big holiday meal we’ve hosted, and we’re looking forward to it quite a bit. I’m going to make cranberry salsa for a bit of seasonal regional flavor.

The Korg Trinity keyboard I’d bought on eBay arrived yesterday, and I spent a happy afternoon getting to know it. The sounds themselves are of course great, but the fun really began when I fired up the sequencer and started layering dance rhythms over pipe organs, marimbas, and panpipes. What can I say — I want to be Mannheim Steamroller when I grow up.