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slow katydids in Rosendale
Sunday, September 2 2007
The rip in Eleanor's neck has still holding together after the fix I'd made yesterday with Super Glue (which I'd bought at the Dollar Tree the other day). It the tissue was swollen around the cut but it had scabbed over and looked like it was healing nicely. I noticed that was generalized swelling reaching up from that wound into the musculature on the side of Eleanor's face, indicating she'd received several vicious bites that had bruised underlying muscle tissue.
Meanwhile Sally (the other dog) was hopping around with her right front paw in the air, though there was nothing obviously wrong with it.
This evening Gretchen and I drove to the Rosendale Theater to see You Kill Me, an unusual romantic comedy starring Ben Kingsley and Téa Leoni. I hadn't seen Kingsley in a movie since Gandhi, and he wasn't really young then, so it's amazing he can still play the role of romantic lead, codgerly or otherwise. Kingsley plays the role of a hitman for a small-time Polish crime family working in Buffalo. I suppose most ethnic crime families in America operate more like this and less like the mafia, using their muscle mostly to corner legitimate businesses such as snow plowing (for which Buffalo has an insatiable demand). The Ben Kingsley hit man is an alcoholic whose drinking is starting to get in the way of his killing, so he's reluctantly sent to San Francisco to dry out. All that is expected of him is that he attend Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, take a part time job, and lay off the sauce. In so doing he meets the woman played by Téa Leoni, who turns out to be something of a perfect match. Her role breaks the most conventions for a movie of this sort. There are no scenes of her sobbing over the truth when she is made aware of it; she embraces it and is willing to meet Kingsley's character more than half way. The best scene in the movie is when she shows her stuff and does something slightly more effective than panicking. It's a good thing we were given a montage up front to prepare us for her dope skillz.
Later Gretchen and I dined by ourselves in the back patio of the Rosendale Café. Eleanor was in top form, ranging wildly in the back alleys of the village, but Sally could only pogo-stick around a tightly-circumscribed area. There was a slight autumnal chill to the air and the katydids were noticeably slower than they had been only a couple nights before.
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