This arctic weather does not favor a tropical boy like me. There’s nothing I can’t stand more than being cooped up in the house, really, I get all Jack Nicholson in The Shining (redrumred rum…)- I need to be able to stretch my legs and wander without getting frozen, and right now there’s a real dearth of quality refuge spots – new art exhibits, coffee shops where I can smoke indoors, and movies that I want to see. Crossing the Key Bridge yesterday en route to my grandmother’s over the frozen Potomac River, the chill biting through my jeans, my hat blowing off – man, I need a real vacation. This is not my time of year in DC. Really, really miserable. Was supposed to go to NYC this weekend but all reports say it was much worse there. All I can really do is hope for an early spring.

Was able to catch up on some New Yorkers, though. Really insightful piece on the present state of journalism in Saudi Arabia. Some enjoyable fiction. One personal history really hit home with me – woman who adopted a seemingly adorable stray dog who had turned out to have major psychological issues. I could relate to how much the owners were willing to invest in the dog - personally, lifestyle-wise, medically, financially – in efforts to find help. Ultimately, it was fruitless, and she had to put the dog down. That’s another reason I don’t like this time of year, in particular MLK Day weekend. We’ve had to put two of our dogs down on this weekend in the past, Sachiko, because of Addison’s disease over a decade ago, and three years ago, MacArthur, after a painful battle with cancer.

In efforts to get out of my winter funk, I froze my ass down to Georgetown and saw Big Fish. Honestly, I had read that it was uneven and agreed with many of the critics. Like Cold Mountain, I found that there were memorable, poignant, brilliant moments, but the sum of the parts did not really equal the whole. I was particularly taken with the Siamese twins vignette – quite brilliant and funny. And really on the mark. Both Ewan McGregor and Albert Finnely had well-timed, comic moments but often were just cloying and over-the-top. Jessica Lange and Allison Lohman were painfully under-used. From an illustrator’s point of view, I find Tim Burton’s world and art-direction entirely fascinating. That was a bit muted by the contemporary, melodramatic moments. Every time I catch that masterpiece A Nightmare Before Christmas on television, I find myself totally drawn in and can’t turn it off. The son, played by Billy Cruddup, is a boring twat. His French wife, played by Marian Cotillard (Taxi), is sweet. As someone who has been known to tell more than a few tall tales myself, and have been called on it (grade-school show-and-tell), gotten into trouble for it (sent to the principal’s office) and have felt enormously guilty and thought I was going to go to hell(Catholic School), I was pleased that there was redemption at the end.