Flaming Zinc

and clammy to think for myself, so I am going to half inch this me me from Book Girl.

List five books you liked well enough as a teen to read again as an adult.

1. Mosquito Coast by Paul Theroux
2. Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut
3. The Collector by John Fowles
4. The Wasp Factory by Ian Banks
5. Any of the Jeeves and Wooster series by PG Wodehouse

List five books or authors you’ll never read unless someone pays you at least a thousand dollars cash in advance to do so and even then you might be tempted not to do it.

1. J. R. R. Tolkien
2. Dan Brown
3. Samuel Richardson
4. Margaret Atwood
5. Herman Melville

Sudden realisation that for half our relationship, Alex has been off-shored stateside. I am bowled over. Where the fuck have the last five years has gone, and for that matter the past decade? Other than the edited high lights of graduating, treading water in London waiting to be claimed, leaving the same tepid job in the container industry on three separate occasions, and then treading water over here waiting for our permanent residency.

I’d been feeling that I hadn’t really evolved much over the last ten years, in an ever decreasing circle kind of way I am still with the same geek and about to start school. But, then when I think back over our many moves and different jobs. Flitting between cities and continents. I have to stop and say, wow we’re not even thirty and we’ve come so far (literally). We make a pretty awesome team, and not many couples make it to double digits. It will be TEN long years this September and I think we need to celebrate it as much as possible! We are glass and sand. Chemically the same, but different.

One of the more imperiling aspect of coupledom is the planning and execution of the annual holiday. So much pressure to enjoy ones self. It can only end in disappointment and pointed accusations. I think that’s why people find themselves returning to favourite haunts year after year. So, after a short burst of texting this morning, Alex and I have settled on going to San Francisco and Napa in September. We’ve been before but that was in July of 2000, prior to out big push across the pond.

And now, now I am think, no plotting that perhaps we should think about investigating the possibility of pushing ourselves to the West coast. Itchy feet need cooling in the Pacific. Alex, with me hanging on his coat tails, has been based on the East coast for five years this coming January. FIVE YEARS. It’s not that I am tired of NY and it’s accompanying attitude, but the West coast could be a different adventure. An exploration that we could set off together, rather than one of us getting a head start and discovering all the cool places to eat on their own. It’s more techie, laid back and Birkenstocks are mandatory.

I am a funny type of traveller at heart. I never look back and move on without regret. But, I am always hopeful that I will find somewhere that I will cool my itchy feet.

I’ve had a some what hedonistic weekend, all be it mainly contained with these four walls and vegging out. I kicked things off on Saturday morning with the third episode of Doctor Who. A very entertaining tale, with the Doctor and Rose going back to 19th Century Cardiff to battle the undead. BRILLIANT. Vintage Doctor Who. Saturday night I started to catch up with all the Six Feet Under stored on TiVo, and then there the nice surprise of The Girl in the Cafe. A very touching political comedy of manners by Richard Curtis about the G8 summit. Bill Nighy was as adorable as ever, even in this awkward and bumbling romance with the delicious Kelly MacDonald.

I was left home alone on Sunday as Alex flew the nest to play golf. So I watched the whole of the first season of Hustle, finished reading Out and went to see The Glass Menagerie on Broadway (can’t beat $20 tickets). All three were wonderful in their own way, and now I am off to watch the latest Inspector Lynley on PBS and eat the desert I picked up from the Italian deli. All praise lazy weekends.

I like to think that simple things make me happy. An eagerly anticipated film or a new episode of House or 24, the next Harry Potter installment, a chatty email, a $20 theatre ticket, seeing family/friends and the knowledge that there will be a new Alexander McCall Smith published in September. I don’t need diamonds or flashy cars to keep me content, though they might had a little frosting to my life.

My current mantra is to be happy, enjoy life and just not take it seriously. Because, after all does any of this really matter? I am proving to be the most jocular of office coordinators slash receptionist. Always a smile, always a witty remake and always out of the door by five thirty. I must admit, that I do bring an air of pretension to the job. I nearly always have some classical play or text book carelessly lying on my desk, just to remind people that this is merely a transition phase and I am cultivating my brain for a more cerebral role.

Of course, Alex would say that the other “simple things” I need in my life are cable, TiVo and a wireless internet connection – but aren’t these mere bread and butter basics?

Quite a sweet twist with Bewitched. Instead of a straightforward vanilla remake we have a film centered around a new cast remaking the tv show and they unknowingly pick a real witch to play Samantha. It is as light and frothy as a cappuccino, but could have done with being resized as it did drag in places. Nicole Kidman, looked as beautiful as ever decked out in skirts/cropped jeans and cute knit wear. And she carried off the spoilt witch trying to make it without magic (think Rachel in Friends cutting up her father’s credit cards). Will Ferrell was a bumbling ass (or should that be Bottom) of an actor in desperate need of a hit. But, the star was Michael Caine’s cameo as Kidman’s father. Delightful. Tighter editing would have made for a snappier production, and more interactions between Caine and Kidman would bring more belly laughs. But, overall a pleasant way to spend a few hours on a Friday night.

But, if you are in need of a more substantial witch themed romcom look to Practical Magic. One of my all time favourite chick flicks, in fact I might re-watch it this afternoon.

Sometimes I feel like a fraud.

I say I will grow my hair till I go back to college, yet I find myself scheduling an appointment for the chop.

I say that I wont buy any more books till I cull the numbers at home, yet I find myself in bookshops buying more bloody books.

I say I will give myself the summer off studying, yet I find myself yearning for new information so badly that I end up reading about Greek sculptures (fascinating stuff the transition from Egyptian to Ancient Greek).

I say I wont eat cake until the weekend, yet I find myself consuming cake at every opportunity at which it presents itself to be eaten (in its many flavours and disguises).

I say I will have an early night, and yet I find myself typing.

When you find yourself in a strop with the world, I find the perfect cure can be as simple as a cup of coffee. As long as it is accompanied with a large slice of cake and Clive Owen film. Tonight’s cake is white chocolate and lemon, and the flick is Closer.

Of late, my in-box is rather bereft of communicates from mother England. This evening I could take some time to break the Cuban missile like stand off I am in. But, first I shall drink my milky coffee and finish The Other Boleyn Girl by Philippa Gregory. (After I have loaded the dishwasher).

• Respected contemporary, yet edgy director - check
• Charismatic un-Hollywood Hollywood lead (must look good in a mask) – check
• Bland, eye candy needed for love interest who wont distract too much – check
• Solid, dependable older mentors who can provide link to the past and light relief (times two) – check
• Shabby futuristic city scape – check
• Plenty of British thesps in the supporting cast – check
• Scary, yet human foe – check
• Cheeky plot twist to keep audience on there toes – check
• Franchise resurrected – check