Festivus...

August is the time of year when there are all sorts of festivals of sorts. The harvest is starting soon, there are early growers to be sold, and we prepare for everything to go to seed. The fleet's in, so that must mean it's time for Seafair, something I haven't participated in for nearly a decade: No torchlight parade, no "Miss Seafair" contest (oh damn, sorry, it's now the "Seafair Scholarship Program for Women," complete with evening gown competition), no hydroplaning (unless it rains while I'm driving), which still is the dumbest sport known to man--NASCAR with flooded engines--the winner is usually the boat that 1) doesn't go "dead" in the water, and 2) usually wins by a wide margin because every other boat is under-performing. * Maybe I'm just showing myself to be an old kvetcher, but I haven't enjoyed the concept for quite awhile ("Why, in my day they had PISTON engines!! They didn't call 'em 'Thunder-boats' for nuthin'!!" "That's great, grandpa, throw me another beer!") Really, it was just a good excuse to go down to Genesee and drink--the tradition continues, 250 people were arrested Sunday during the races. Well, at least the city fathers distracted the sailors for another year, which has always been the intention. Oh, that's the Scholarship Recipient below (does eveybody who gets a scholarship have to wear a taiara?)

On "The Rock," we had the Loganberry Festival, and the "Island Fair," and coming up on the 11th, the Coupeville Arts and Crafts Fair (what CAN you do with all those mussel-shells?), and the Highland Games up at the Loganberry Farm. There'll be the "Heavy Stone" Toss, and the "Light Hammer" throw, and the "Caber" Toss, plus dancing and fall-de-rall.

But this weekend, I'm looking forward to the "Wilson Family Reunion," where my Dad's side of the family whoops it up, cooks a great deal (Uncle George is a fine restauranteur, cook and kitchen chief), and plays completely meaningless games with a footballer's fervor. It is always fun and hilarious. My sister-in-law's in town, and she and my niece (and sister) will all attend. Should make for an interesting Monday post.

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I missed "The League of the Underemployed" Company Picnic, but I was determined not to miss "Breakfast with the Bloggers" last Friday where Walaka and Otis and John-bai and O and Jon and K (his K) got together for a loud boisterous breakfast. I'd never met Jon (or K), though we have corresponded blog-wise, and even though I feel like I know her, I'd never REALLY met Olaiya, so it was fun to get together and eat, and joke and gab and one-up-punmanship with each other. A splendid time was had by all. Smokey even made an appearance and although he eats vegetarian on occassion, he was content to wait in the car. Then we went out to Lake Forest Park to play some fast frisbee, and met Walaka over at his place for an extended conversation while Otis was out gal-ivanting. Smoke' did a bit more frisbee toss out in the parking lot, then we went home--he slept well that night.

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Here's a quick wildlife update: Saturday morning I woke up to find a migration of grey birds...on my lawn...on foot. Not sure what was going on, but two dozen of these plain little fowl were walking like they had a purpose. Very strange.

My neighbor robin in the rafters has hatched its eggs. There are peeping little birds every time one of the adults approaches, hoping for some regurgitated bird-food. Yummy!

Meanwhile at the eagles' nest: Their child "Baby Huey"--who looks huge--has not left the nest yet. It seems content to scream at Mom and Dad whenever it is hungry. It'll fly one day. Or they'll kick him out.

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Tales from the Red Envelope:

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (Adamson, 2005)

Just enough inspiration to be enjoyable. If there wasn't, this would be a stiff "Lord of the Rings" wannabe with children, rather than Orcs. It's a breezy summation of C.S. Lewis' first classic for kids, and though it was sold as a Christian film to gather the flocks who flocked to "The Passion of the Christ," it comes across as less than inspirational. Some fine special effects, it ultimately comes down to a battle movie, which seems odd. Tilda Swinton makes a great evil Queen, and Liam Neeson voices the Lion of the title with the same gravitas he used with Qui-Gon Jinn In "Episode I." That's not necessarily a good thing.

Ultimately, "Narnia" is a good bench-mark for determining how advanced CGI effects are. At this point, it would seem that we're good on polar bears, centaurs, wolves and lions. Not so much with beavers. But as there are seven books in all in Lewis' series, I suppose there's time to get it right.

The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill (Judy Irving, 2003)

A documentary not so much about the birds themselves, but how people, particularly one man, relate to them. I suppose it has to be this way because the parrots can't speak for themselves and relate their own stories, so they need an advocate. That the filmmaker entered into a romantic relationship with the guy is, I guess, inevitable. I don't know many documentarians who don't keep up contact with their subjects if they're at all accessible.

As for the parrots, they are now just a fact of Nature, whatever their origins. Their continued existence depends on the charity of the Telegraph Hill residents. If there's a parrot-poop problem, it's for sure that some of them will want them gassed (as with the migrating geese in Seattle), or will just decimate the population as happened with the "abandoned bunny" colony in Redmond, which was bulldozed to make way for REI headquarters. Living on "The Rock" has taught me that, no matter how we romanticize the critters and anthropomorphize them, "Nature is red in tooth and claw" still, and it extends even to us, as these species survive merely on our whim. As upbeat as the movie tries to be about this lovely little miracle, it cannot ignore the predators among us.

Croupier (Mike Hodges, 1998)

The movie where people noticed Clive Owen. Hodges made the original "Get Carter" and a bad version of Crichton's "The Terminal Man" and the Dino DeLaurentiis "Flash Gordon." But these things can be forgiven when something like this rolls around. Jack Manfred is a writer, who hasn't written and is seeking inspiration. A former card-sharp, he takes a job as a croupier at a local casino, and finds himself changed. And for a man whose mantra is "I don't gamble," he hasn't realized that he does anyway, just as sure as breathing. Owen carries the movie, eyes at half-mast, watching his gamblers the way a lizard looks at ants, betraying everyone and everything but his emotions. He's a genuine cypher, and so incapable of expressing anything that when something turns in his life its always a bit of a shock. In the end, the dealer has to realize that he is just as capable of being played. And that revelation can come as quickly as the turning of a card.

* Nothing could be sadder than Heat 2b--the ones where the guys who lost in the first "Heat" chase each other's rooster-tails to see who's the biggest loser (see previous "'dead' in the water" passage).