Swiper came along for a family trip to see Kung Fu Panda II. He watched the whole thing and agrees with Dan and me that the first was definitely better, but it was still a strong showing for Dreamworks, whose movies we typically don't like (we're Pixar people).
I wish I could have brought both Swiper and the screen into focus. The effort reminded me of MST3K. I didn't hear him do any heckling, though.
I love old things, dead things, things whose time should be past but which linger on in the present. I like how they hint at something that I might learn if I examine them closely and look for clues. The interesting dentition of a deer that died in a local park, the curious golden houndstooth of the wallpaper put up by the previous owners of our home, a tin box found in a local antique store, donated by someone who, perhaps, bought it long ago or found it in an attic.
I love irreverance, too. Never to the point of disrespect, just a touch of dark and twisty. Perhaps you cannot delve too deeply into death and decay unless you have a little warped humor. Maybe this is why I can be fascinated by dead things and learn from them, see their beauty, but not get dragged down into sorrow and despair.
I chatted with a friend recently about the reactions some people have to friends and family members who use alternative therapies - whether non-Western medicine or new methods not yet approved for widespread medical use in the US. I myself am neither a complete adherent to mainstream Western med, nor a total believer in the gamut of alternative therapies. I don't believe that crystals have healing powers, I'm highly skeptical of accupuncture, amber teething necklaces don't make a lick of sense to me, and I think moxibustion to turn a breech baby sounds absolutely crazy.
I also think that placebo effects are still effects, and if something helps your mind (and therefore your body) to tap into a beneficial result without any harmful tradeoffs, awesome.
I know that in 20 years we'll understand things and do things that seem impossible, imaginary, ludicrous today. And maybe some of the things that seem nonsensical or placebo-effectish now will be shown to really work when we figure out how to study them. A few years ago the idea of intestinal flora being linked to anxiety disorders seemed far-fetched to me, but now we know differently.
Every medical advance started as a fringe thing, a doodle in the margins, a pipe dream, something only desperate people willing to suspend disbelief would pursue. Before FDA approval, before controlled studies, before research grants, come wild imaginings, stretches of logic, leaps of faith.
Thank goodness for desperate people and the dreamers who give them hope.
Happy Towel Day, y'all. I forgot all about it until I saw a friend's Facebook post this afternoon. As luck would have it, I had been carrying a towel in my purse all day long. You never know when you'll need it.
I'm so glad that Douglas Adams was in our world, and thankful for the parts of himself he left behind in his books. He, like Swiper, was one hoopy frood who really knew where his towel was.