Twilight to Trueblood--keeping Fantasy "real"

I have always been very interested in the process of adapting books to screenplays. But I confess, I am a fangirl first. I am quoting Pam Pastor of the Phillipine Daily Inquirer when she points out that Meyer herself felt that Melissa Rosenberg had better be very careful...
..."The original script changed the passage, “And so the lion fell in love with the lamb,” but according to Producer Greg Mooradian, Stephanie (Meyer) suggested that they stick to the original because many girls have tattooed that line on their ankles."

yeah..that is my kind of obsession. I need every director, every producer to be as involved with the script as I am infatuated with the charatcers. The bar has been set quite high--Peter Jackson & Fran Walsh with thier work adapting Tolkien's volumes so vastly supercedes my first real experiences with this concept; that would be Peter Benchley for his work on Jaws and of course Lucas w/Star Wars in '77. Those early boys didn't do a bad job mind you, I'm just saying the BOOKS were light years (get it?) of vividness away from the dull mundanity of special effects. Trust me dear ones, the scene may not be "pretty" in my head but imagination is alive and potent in a way that no mechanical shark or "planet basketball" can begin to touch. Now despite my pride in my own imagination and my preference for the appearance of the characters, One of my favorite 36 hours ever was when Petey and I with R&T (of course!!) sat through a marathon of Jackson's series that ended at midnight when Return of the King was released. I was in heaven.

Not so much with the adaptations of the Harry Potter series. My opinion of those films can be easily summed up.

They suck.

These WB generated atrocities do however provide a nice transitional concept from St. Peter & his lovely Fran to Mr. Alan Ball. Who is confusing me no end. It seems that Ball has created another spawn monster--this one nearly as disappointing as the Harry Potty films. HBO's webpage describes the series thusly,

"A sexy, scary new drama from 'Six Feet Under' creator Alan Ball, 'True Blood' delves into the meticulously-crafted world of novelist Charlaine Harris."

Please excuse me while I laugh hysterically!!! *can't breathe* --- I like Harris' novel's very much. They are witty mysteries frosted with black humor. They are about as deep as a mud puddle-- they are primarily a formulaic vehicle for a quickie mystery (or maybe another kind of quickie if you are into Weretigers named Quinn. grrrrowl). A "beach book", fluff and nonsense. delicious! (You should maybe check out her Shakespeare series---it's not what ya think)

What Ball is doing to these books is like comparing eating a handful of fresh grapes to drinking a full bodied red wine. (or dare I say it? for a vamp...hunting vs a bottle of Trueblood (tm?) Not even the same thing!!! I am sure the producers at HBO have a hand in the soap opera like changes but I wonder if Harris is even in the library let alone on the same page!! The numerous and prolific differences between the text of the books would surely bore you; I could fill three pages. (WHERE is Ball gonna put Bubba* I ask?) And yet...I have to admit...

As with it's previous eyecandy-- Rome and The Sopranos, HBO has some tasty cinematography and Jace Evertt's theme song has wrapped around my spine. I'll be back in the summer for Season Two. Even if Jason isn't a werewolf, Tara is the wrong race and there are no interVamp politics.




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Elvis' brain dead corpse?

planning the T-day menu

Certain decisions need to go before the executive board--deep fried turkey or roasted?--rolls or loaf o'carbs? What flavors of pie...but one decision we have managed to keep for three years running is all ME!

Thanksgiving is whole--Local and in Season. No strawberries from California...no chemical whip cream. Right now my turkey is still alive. The bird accessories are all local. I even found Michigan cranberries (which have taken THREE DAYS to dehydrate. Getting local yumminess isn't really hard for me.

I got a great email from the Co-op this morning...I'll just let Corrine's words speak for her--

In fact, Ypsilanti Food Co-op’s inventory exceeds 100 local product lines including pastas from Al Dente Pasta, canned vegetables... from Eden Organic (Clinton), Amish eggs, dairy from Calder Dairy (Lincoln Park) and Guernsey Dairy in Northville, breads, pies, and other baked treats from our own River Street Bakery (Ypsilanti), beer from Arbor Brewing (Ypsilanti), and wine from Sandhill Crane Winery (Jackson). --Corinne Sikorski


Some decisions do not need debate.

culture clash

Isabel is currently enjoying a cartoon called Phineas & Ferb, one of the characters has a distinct British accent. While she was watching the show she commented to noone in particular that she "thought British accents are "sooo coool". Pete and I smiled knowingly to one another and let her enjoy her newfound Anglophile-y ness (Not a big surprise actually considering her 'rents.) The show itself is less nauseating than most Disney pablum... --dear ones, NOTE: we are NOT going to discuss the Wizards of Waverly Place. No. We are not. Of all the crap Disney has produced I find that even more offensive than their gendered stereotypes of female victimization. We are however going to make a big loop from Harry Potter to cooking--you ready??

Ok, so Carol got us a treat. She brought Zander & Ule-dawg over last Friday and we played and bummed around--watching the dogs romp and trying to convince them to act like old cats instead of rambunctious GSD puppies. They of course wanted to nothing to do with knitting or watching movies--well Luna did (post her recent surgery) but Ule was ready for some tag--thankfully it was soon lunch and we warmed up leftover Chinese fud and started talking cooking. (big surprise) And Carol produced the treat-- a packaged British import from Hillers!! YUM! previously I had asked her (knowing full well she too is an Anglophile of the highest caliber) if she was familiar with "treacle tart" which is supposedly Harry Potter's favorite pudding. She-- in an effort to remove some of my provincial attitudes-- was helping me broaden my horizons--we nuked the dessert. As we tasted it she immediately proclaimed it CRAP! and was not interested in further tasting. I personally wasn't offended and ate mine right up!-- unlike she and Pete I have never BEEN to England so I kinda liked the honey undertones of smoky sticky syrup, happily I didn't have a true experience with which to compare this little cake. She however, was disgusted and we launched into a full scale online search where she told me all about Delia the Brit version of Martha Stewart and we giggled about the hilarious blog we stumbled across here.
Our search led us to the various KINDS of treacle and of course the various brands. Including the famous rotting lion mentioned in the blog we found.
We read about Spotted Dick (Andre...hush) and Golden Syrup vs. Black Treacle, sponge cake vs angel food and generally had a lovely afternoon. While we briefly wandered off to Savory puddings such as Yorkshire et al, we didn't really reach any conclusions but we did enjoy pointing out to one another the whole "pudding" thing as being decidedly separate from American ideas of dessert.

So, upon my most recent restocking of the family pantry I purchased (from Hiller's they do have a great import section) a can of Lyle's Black Treacle. I am not sure why..or what I am going to do with it exactly --but the lion is definitely rotting and has flies buzzing above it and the motto on the tin sez..and this is a direct quote,

"Out of the strong came forth great sweetness."

What the....??? EWWWW!!! If I understand the "adVERTisment" correctly--I am supposed to believe that the sticky goo IN the can is rotted lion slime?? That is supposed to be appealing??? I'm s'posed to eat it??? As dessert??? What about the "treacle mines they taunt their children with???"--Decomposing lion??? ummmm No. I don't care if Harry Potter likes it...I'll stick to my familiar American sweetness--like Disney princesses and dessert w/out flies.