Fun and Games Dept

Ad Astra.

My second car was a 1976 Pontiac Astre. That’s the first thing I think of when I hear the title of the recently released Brad Pitt “space” vehicle, “Ad Astra”.

Theatre 14 of the local Arclight Cinemas was nearly full when we saw “Ad Astra” on Friday night. I knew little about that movie outside of “it’s Brad Pitt! In space!” and that his character’s father was somehow part of the plot. I’m game for any movie that takes places in space so off we went to see Ad Astra.

I don’t feel like it was a waste of money but I walked away from the experience a bit non-plussed. Spoilers below, hit the plus sign for more, but don’t say you haven’t been warned!

Spoilers!

I don’t intend on revealing the whole plot but I felt like this movie was put together by committee. It was like they said, “Ok, Brad Pitt’s character has to see his Dad on Neptune” and they dutifully built a movie around that. Extra emphasis was put on the visuals (which are very impressive) but not a lot of time was spent on dialog. I found the dialog thin. The committee then reconvened and said, “Wow, this looks great, but it is such a boring movie”!

So they add Space Pirates. Pew pew, buggies bumping off each other on the Moon, more pew pew and then we never see the Space Pirates again.

“OK, that helped, what else ya got?”

So on the way to Mars they run into another space ship sending out a distress signal. Everyone is dead and floating in zero-G. Then there’s a bunch of gorillas that are cranky because they’ve been left out in space. And then we don’t care.

My husband proclaimed “It sucked!” as the credits rolled and I was sitting in the dark processing what I had just experienced. I wasn’t moved. I thought it looked good and it was good for what it was. But I did check my watch a couple of times.

I don’t do ratings for movies but if I did, this one wouldn’t make the Merit Roll.

Boop.

Truman isn’t a particularly cuddly cat. He has his own way of ritualizing his expressions of appreciation: every morning when I come out of the bedroom to great him he stands on his back paws and leans his front paws against my waist, without claws, but as if I was a scratching post. When I walk from my home office to the kitchen he jumps out from behind something and plants both paws against my leg and then runs, as if to say, “c’mon Dad, let’s play!”

Once in a while he’ll have his moments where he’ll give me a boop or a nudge to let me know he cares.

But pick him up? Nah, that’ll be four treats for five seconds, please.

Sucked In.

Earl and I are watching the premiere of the 654th season of “The Voice”. They’ve amped it up this season and now spin the chairs three times before someone throws a jacket at the performer and they decide to wear it. Blake Shelton is handing out hip waders.

If we are going to have family time watching “The Voice”, I have to admit that I only like the blind auditions. I actually enjoy Kelly Clarkson and Gwen Stefani very much, and as long Xtina (was that designation gay enough?) doesn’t make an appearance I’m content.

So far the male performer with Asperger’s (I didn’t catch his name) has wowed me a lot. The others are good. A few try too hard. I miss the days when emoting != screaming.

Lazy Day.

Truman isn’t much of a cuddler. When I lay down on the couch the best I can hope for is “cat adjacent”. I’m perfectly fine with this.

Hiawatha, Iowa.

I’m in Hiawatha, Iowa tonight and tomorrow night for work. I’ve been here before but it’s been a couple of years; this was the first time driving here for work since moving to Chicago. The drive was pleasant.

I enjoy work trips and getting to meet with fellow team members face to face. A night in the hotel room can be a little boring, especially when the Internet connection won’t allow me to VPN into the office, but I have enough bandwidth to waste time writing blog entries and watching the various versions of “The Bob Newhart Show” theme song. I enjoy trying to figure out where Bob is walking through Chicago back in the day.

Telecommuting is wonderful, even working with team members over video conferencing is great, but nothing replaces face to face time.

I’m looking forward to tomorrow’s day at the office.

Videos.

I’m watching old private pilot videos from the 60s and 70s on YouTube. I need to go flying. Very soon.

https://youtu.be/mcKtQFWN9eQ

Screams.

After taking our weekend visitors Jeff and Mark to O’Hare for their flight back to Raleigh-Durham, I decided to take some time to go on one of my little urban adventures in the city. I decided to head out to the western neighborhoods, and I began my journey on the Red Line so I could transfer to the Blue Line and head out to the Northwest. That’s how the Loop-oriented CTA lines work in Chicago.

As I made my transfer from the Red Line to the Blue Line at Lake, I followed the trail of folks with luggage looking to make the transfer so they could head to O’Hare. In the CTA stations there are plenty of posters and other reminders to “walk left, stand right” on the escalators, and during the week daily commuters do an excellent job at observing this rule. It’s rare to see someone clog up the escalator.

On the weekend it’s a completely different story.

A young woman was standing next to her luggage on the escalator, staring at her phone, clogging up the folks trying to pass on the left. Just as I was perfecting my glare (along with others), the escalator came to a abrupt halt.

Not a big deal. For the uniformed, when an escalator comes to a stop, it simply becomes a staircase. The escalator stops, so you walk up the stairs and you easily reach your destination. It’s not a difficult concept.

Except below me on the escalator some woman started screaming as if the station had been plunged into darkness, a portal to Hades had opened, and the compartment was being filled with some sort of noxious gas. (I promise I wasn’t “crop dusting” the escalator on my way up).

Bewildered by this screaming, other patrons on the now stopped escalator took this as some sort of wailing cue and started hustling up the escalator rapidly.

I believe my response to all of this was, “Settle down, Loretta”. I then proceeded up the escalator in a calm fashion, threading my way around the woman blocking the path because she hadn’t figured out what was happening yet, and I made my way to the Blue Line.

People need to calm down.

Design.

Our friends Jeff and Mark from North Carolina were in town for a visit over the weekend. While Earl worked the Cubs game, we took the opportunity to drive out to Oak Park to visit Frank Lloyd Wright’s Home and Studio. He left the complex in 1909.

I’ve always been a fan of Wright’s architecture and I wasn’t disappointed with the visit to the Home and Studio in Oak Park. While this particular group of buildings was not in his well known “Prairie Style”, the design of his home and studio were definitely his work. Moving from room to room, one is “compressed” into a small space along the hallway and then “decompressed” for a grand entrance into the next room. His office was three stacked octagons, and the work studio has chain used to suspend the roof and ceiling out in plain view, instead of hidden in walls like you’d find elsewhere.

The Preservation Trust has done a magnificent job in bringing the site back to its 1909 glory. When the Trust took over the property in 1976 it had been an apartment building and a dormitory, among other things. One stairwell is still in its 1976 condition and it’s evidence of what good willed people can do when they put their mind to it.

I’ve never understood this American trend of ripping down beautiful downtown areas in the interest of “Urban Renewal”, and I will never understand how someone can take a gorgeous, historic, and obviously unique building and carve it up into a bunch of apartments.

The visit was a pleasant one; I look forward to taking Earl out there to experience it as well before the snow flies.

In Lyrics.

I will take my life into my hands
And I will use it
I will win the worship in their eyes
And I will lose it
I will have the things that I desire
And my passion flow like rivers from the sky
And after all the loves of my life
Oh, after all the loves in my life
You’ll still be the one
And that will be my life

My take on a verse from “MacArthur Park”.  The goalpost of my life.