Since I was the last sentient being in North America not to have seen it, I slipped out last night to catch Return of the King at our local Cineplex. (A big thanks to Kathy, incidentally, for getting the kids into bed single-handed. You’re awesome, woman!)

I won’t be able to add much to the volumes that have already been written about it, but I thought it a fitting capstone to the trilogy. Well-done, loads of fun to watch, and generally a delight. The ending is painfully bittersweet, and I found myself aching for Sam, who had been through hell (or a good facsimile thereof) and back to support Frodo, and still lost him in the end, though admittedly to a more benign fate than might have faced in Mordor.

It’s admittedly long overdue, but I’ve finally posted a new series of photos of kids and family. Go visit Ringing Out 2003 to see how big our brood has become, and to get some inkling of what sorts of mischief they’ve been causing.

Well, that was a bit of excitement.

The kids were tucked in bed, Kathy had dropped off to sleep, and I was playing Grand Theft Auto, enjoying the pyrotechnics as I caused cars to burst into flame and explode. At about 12:30, someone started ringing the doorbell insistently. Annoyed at what I expected was some college drunk or neighborhood kid playing a prank, I went to the door. Opening it revealed less of a change of atmosphere from the game than I expected: a woman shouting “My car’s on fire!” and a Ford Explorer parked on the opposite curb with flames licking out of the engine compartment.

I ran around back where we keep our hose, disconnected it, and ran around to the front with it. (With its reel and multiple lengths, it probably exceeded the 20lb lifting limit that my doctor imposed for another week, but I figured if there was any circumstance that justified slowing up my recovery, this was probably it.) We pulled it out to the car, and the woman’s husband started dousing the fire. It quickly became apparent, however, that a garden hose wasn’t up to the task.

I popped inside and called 911, and then went back out to see the fire growing. Though I expect it wasn’t more than a minute or two, the wait until we heard sirens seemed interminable, as the fire began to spread. By the time the fire trucks arrived, the interior of the car was full of flame, and the horn started sounding as the wiring shorted out. There were several dramatic showers of sparks, collapsings of glass, and other pyrotechnics, and I doubted for a while whether the fireman were going to win out before the surrounding trees and grass caught fire.

Fortunately, they were able to contain the fire in about five minutes once they had the big hoses turned on it. We stood around for another 20 minutes or so waiting for the wrecker to haul the charred carcass, now lacking seats, windows, and a dashboard, back to the owner’s house.

Given the sirens, flashing lights, and sounding horn of the flaming car, I was somewhat amazed that the neighborhood didn’t show up in force, but evidently I live on a street of sound sleepers. Mercifully, everyone was uninjured, though a bit in shock, and was able to return home an hour or so after this crazy adventure started. And I have determined that I unequivocally prefer simulated car fires to the real thing.

The iTunes Music Store has been sitting on my computer, touting its ease-of-use charms, it’s alluring per-song purchases, for months now. But I was strong! I knew I could get the same songs without DRM cheaper on eBay! I could just put the discs I wanted on my wish list, and someone would eventually get them for me. Patience would be rewarded. I can do this! I can…

And then this came along, and I was undone. I bought my first song through the iTunes music store. Farewell, virtues of patience and self-restraint. Hello, instant gratification. Who knew the price of a soul was only $0.99 plus tax?