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Americanized Tomato Chutney
Apr. 25th, 2005 01:50 amI'm sorry, that's a really terrible joke. I am a trifle spacy, perhaps.
I truly admire people who can break out their posts by subject. For me it would be like unknitting one of those scarves made of multicolored recycled silk. Not productive.
Eric and I had a very good visit. Minnesota cooperated by providing a week of abnormally warm and sunny weather, so that when he arrived the new leaves were the barest green mist, and when he departed they were a yellow-green haze punctuated by red clouds and the occasional grumpy yet-bare oak tree. We kept a fairly low profile. My mother and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mrissa both invited us over for dinner, so we did that. We also cooked several times, making kale with black-eyed peas one evening, seitan with hoisin sauce, red and green bell peppers, and sugar snap peas another, and curried cauliflower and curried pollock the last.
We watched the Kenneth Branagh version of The Lady's Not For Burning, and also Spirited Away and, when an amateur tape of a community production of Venus Observed that I have been hoarding for more than ten years proved unwatchable, we selected somewhat at random the DVD of Intolerable Cruelty, which did not exactly hit the spot for us.
We attended the Guthrie's production of As You Like It. Parts of it were excellent, but we agreed that the Sixties setting did not work. It pointed up quite hideously both, as Eric put it, the exploitation of lower-class women by upper-class twits, and various stupidities in gender roles; the setting made both unnecessary, so that their persistence warped the characterization. Eric was justifiably irate that a bunch of hippies in the forest who sang a lot of songs did not have an actual guitar or six in their possession, to play well or badly, it hardly mattered. I was quite taken with Rosalind, however. We came home and watched the 1937 Lawrence Olivier version of the play. When I first saw it I hated that production's Rosalind so much that I couldn't recall anything else, but Olivier was actually quite good, once you got used to the idea that this is extremely stylized and declamatory Shakespeare. I do prefer a more naturalistic presentation, but good heavens, did that man have a voice and body language. The most interesting thing that I can now recall thinking of was that Orlando's moodiness and discontent at the play's beginning reminded me strongly of Hamlet, both in terms of the play itself and in terms of Olivier's acting.
We did a lot of hiking. I want to save the phenology for another entry, but we were smiled upon repeatedly by time, weather, and nature.
Now I am disconsolate.
P.
I truly admire people who can break out their posts by subject. For me it would be like unknitting one of those scarves made of multicolored recycled silk. Not productive.
Eric and I had a very good visit. Minnesota cooperated by providing a week of abnormally warm and sunny weather, so that when he arrived the new leaves were the barest green mist, and when he departed they were a yellow-green haze punctuated by red clouds and the occasional grumpy yet-bare oak tree. We kept a fairly low profile. My mother and
mrissa both invited us over for dinner, so we did that. We also cooked several times, making kale with black-eyed peas one evening, seitan with hoisin sauce, red and green bell peppers, and sugar snap peas another, and curried cauliflower and curried pollock the last.We watched the Kenneth Branagh version of The Lady's Not For Burning, and also Spirited Away and, when an amateur tape of a community production of Venus Observed that I have been hoarding for more than ten years proved unwatchable, we selected somewhat at random the DVD of Intolerable Cruelty, which did not exactly hit the spot for us.
We attended the Guthrie's production of As You Like It. Parts of it were excellent, but we agreed that the Sixties setting did not work. It pointed up quite hideously both, as Eric put it, the exploitation of lower-class women by upper-class twits, and various stupidities in gender roles; the setting made both unnecessary, so that their persistence warped the characterization. Eric was justifiably irate that a bunch of hippies in the forest who sang a lot of songs did not have an actual guitar or six in their possession, to play well or badly, it hardly mattered. I was quite taken with Rosalind, however. We came home and watched the 1937 Lawrence Olivier version of the play. When I first saw it I hated that production's Rosalind so much that I couldn't recall anything else, but Olivier was actually quite good, once you got used to the idea that this is extremely stylized and declamatory Shakespeare. I do prefer a more naturalistic presentation, but good heavens, did that man have a voice and body language. The most interesting thing that I can now recall thinking of was that Orlando's moodiness and discontent at the play's beginning reminded me strongly of Hamlet, both in terms of the play itself and in terms of Olivier's acting.
We did a lot of hiking. I want to save the phenology for another entry, but we were smiled upon repeatedly by time, weather, and nature.
Now I am disconsolate.
P.
