grrgoyl

To make up for my lackluster weekend previously, I was determined to have an adventure last Monday, so that's what I did. Ryan and I went to Waterton Canyon, and it was worth every minute.

Waterton Canyon has an old gravel mining road running through it, a steady climb uphill, but the lowest grade you can have and still be called a hill -- that is, until near the top, where it cruelly bends into about a 40% incline that neither of us cared to tackle for very long. Absolutely gorgeous scenery and hardly anyone else on the trail.

There was some urgency to get to Waterton -- it's a popular spot, and sadly scheduled to be closed for two years in August to dredge the South Platte River of its unacceptably high silt content. Typical, just as I discover this great place, I lose it again.

Anyway, some photos. They all looked sort of blah, despite being of breathtaking vistas, so I touched them up a bit with Photoscape, a surprisingly feature-packed program that's totally free and that I highly recommend to everyone.

Gorgeous. The scenery, not Ryan

I made this look like a postcard from the 70's

Yeah, the photoshopping isn't TOO obvious (note: not photoshopped with Photoscape)

A little tilt-shift effect here. Strontia Springs Dam. Why isn't there bottled water named after this?

Some antiquing. Those little rock-like formations square in the middle (behind the actual rock) are bighorn sheep. You'll just have to take my word

I didn't think Ryan was THAT out of shape, but I apparently "kicked his ass." Despite constant pleading to ride alongside me, he would hang back, even on the downhill. I'm never sure if it's because I'm going too fast (though literally I went down in my highest gear, pedaling as leisurely as I could and still stay upright) or because he needs some quality alone time -- or he's checking out my ass, which seems unlikely.

I got this book, "Mountain Biking Denver and Boulder," which lists 49 rides of varying difficulty. I scouted out possibilities for us, with an eye towards the easiest for Ryan. Have to keep reminding myself it's better than going alone.

A note on the thorn-resistant tube (henceforth known as "Thorny") -- performed like a champ, although this wasn't exactly rough terrain. I didn't feel the slightest difference in weight at Waterton. Different story on my return to Cherry Creek pavement. On the uphill it felt like I was totally bogged down, requiring a colossal effort to keep moving. So much so I spent the whole ride fantasizing about my lightweight standard tubes, wondering if maybe I could go back to one if the only culprit was the bit of wire I found.

I returned home determined to switch, but then reflected on the luxury of still having a firm, fully inflated tire after a whole week and decided against it. The next day I went out again and it was a little easier, so I think I made the right choice.

Speaking of weight, I compared Rogue Leader to Ryan's (nameless, not as loved) bike -- he also has a Specialized, though a much later model. It confirmed my fear that I have the heaviest bike in Denver, made back when they used cast iron reinforced with lead. Even Ryan was surprised at how much heavier it was. Well, guess it's good for an upper body workout too.

~*~

I'm constantly looking for more alternatives in my diet. Cutting out the fat is a good thing, but sure takes a lot of pages out of the menu. I haven't had a chicken pot pie since the ER, so looked at the Banquet pies at the store. I figured there couldn't be that much fat in such tiny little packages. WRONG. 22 grams! (I try to keep myself to around 10 per meal) Ludicrous.

This is why it pisses me off when Republicans like Rush Limbaugh point to obesity among the poor as proof that they're hardly starving to death -- the cheapest food is the highest in fat and the worst for your health, creating a vicious circle of bad eating leading to obesity and other health problems you can't afford to see a doctor about (like $3000 ER visits for a gallstone attack). There's a reason Whole Foods has a slightly higher class clientele; healthy shit's EXPENSIVE. Surely Rush must have noticed this fact when he started dieting?

Anyway, I found a new item that seemed promising, Tai Pei frozen Chinese food. It comes in Chinese take-out sized containers, and only 2.5 grams of fat! I bought three varieties, and tried the first yesterday.

Well. What I didn't notice when I bought them was that they supposedly hold 2-1/2 servings. And once you open the box, it's only about half full. Who eats servings that small? Wee little China men with bird-like appetites, that's who. It's like a piece of chicken, a couple of ears of baby corn and two pea pods, a teaspoon of rice and you're done. Try not to gorge yourself.

It still adds up to only 6 grams of fat, but it seems like a really shifty way to pass yourself off as low fat. I mean, anything can be billed as "low fat" if eaten in small enough quantities. Delivery pizza (which I miss maybe the most of all) is low fat, as long as you only eat one or two bites. That won't really hold you over to your next meal, however.

~*~

Finally, a movie review. I'm cutting, which usually doesn't bode well for a movie.

Peacock

This movie arrived from Netflix and I drew a blank on why I added it. I'm guessing based purely on the fact that it stars Cillian Murphy, which is reason enough.

Cillian plays John Skillpa, a man living in Peacock, Nebraska with split personality disorder. When we first see him, he's dressed as "Emma," his female half. Just a word here about Cillian: He is a GORGEOUS woman. With his slender build and cheekbones any female would kill for, I'd happily jump him no matter which gender he was dressed as.

Pictured: Beautiful Murphy and ugly old hag Sarandon

Although he does look a bit unnatural due to wearing brown contact lens (the director said on the making-of that his piercing blue eyes are his "super power" and he wanted to take that away from him). The director also not-so-subtly uses a soft focus lens on Emma, the likes of which I haven't seen since classic "Star Trek."

Another word on Cillian: His American accent is so clean and precise, I'd rather listen to it than some British accents. The knowledge that he has to work at it makes it all the sweeter.

Yep, I love me some Cillian. Almost as much as Ewan McGregor, but not nearly as much as Rickman. And not enough to make me want to buy this movie.

John/Emma is truly split, with one seemingly having no knowledge of the other (I say "seemingly" because it gets muddy later). In the morning Emma wakes and makes breakfast, lunch and dinner for John. Then Emma changes into John, who goes to work at the local bank.

The difference between the two is stark: Emma is calm, serene, demure but fairly confident. She glides about the house effortlessly, gracefully, as if on a cloud. John on the other hand is jittery, agitated, seems uncomfortable in his slightly too-large business suit that looks like he inherited it from his father, goes red in the face and stammers painfully if anyone talks to him. His face looks deeply lined with bags under his eyes in contrast to Emma's smooth, creamy, soft focused complexion.

John lives alone in his parents' house, and keeps his valued posssessions in a box under a step off the back porch. He's a man-child, living in a past we're never shown but rather hinted at: A shouting mother, a creepy sepia photo of a small boy sitting at the dinner table clutching a fork alone.

No one in Peacock knows of Emma's existence until a train derails and its caboose ends up in the backyard, almost killing her. Suddenly she's thrust into a very unwelcome spotlight and the whole town is interested in the Skillpas.

Particularly the mayor (Keith Carradine) running for Senate and his wife (Susan Sarandon). The caboose unfortunately bore his campaign banner and his rival wants to use the accident as a metaphor for his career. They immediately start pressuring John/Emma to hold a rally in their backyard as damage control.

John is wholeheartedly against the idea; Emma seems willing to consider it. This is the beginning of the breakdown of the wall between the personalities -- at first Emma's existence comes as a surprise to John when people start asking about his wife (no one in this 800-person town notices the startling resemblance between them. The soft focus must throw them off). Later he seems to freely accept her without question (he must have wondered where all his home-cooked meals were coming from). I don't know, I think most of us would want to do some investigating if we suspected we had an alternate personality lurking about.

My favorite supporting role is that of John's supervisor (Bill Pullman), who puts increasing pressure on John to maintain his productivity despite very obvious signs the man is nearing a total breakdown.

This is the first half of the movie, which I enjoyed very much. I was intrigued by the story, and adored watching Cillian transform into a hot lady. Then I had to go to work and come back to finish it.

The second half takes a turn into the bizarre yet not so interesting. Maggie (Ellen Page, in the first role I sort of liked her in) turns up on John's doorstep, a 2-year-old boy in tow, asking for money. John leaves the room and becomes Emma, who befriends Maggie and learns John is the father, apparently after being forced by his mother to rape Maggie while mom watched.

Emma takes some responsibility for Maggie's predicament, though more to protect John than because she IS John. She gets Maggie to stay at the women's shelter, but only to facilitate adopting her son (Maggie is unaware of this agenda from what I can tell). This is when things start getting a little weird.

Maggie is desperate for money to escape Peacock. John promises her his life savings ($1400, which leads me to believe this takes place a few decades ago, which explains John's father-knows-best fashion sense). He agrees to meet Maggie at a hotel room to deliver the money. This is done over the phone, with Emma speaking in John's voice for the first time, which makes me think this is the point when the wall between them totally disappears.

Emma shaves off her eyebrows in a very lengthy scene that's probably the most difficult to watch (though not as difficult as a similar scene in Pink Floyd's The Wall. This might be because Emma thankfully draws the line at shaving off her nipples). She has made the decision to "kill" John. She lures a stranger to the hotel room, bashes his head with a crowbar, dresses him in John's clothes, and sets fire to the room.

The town mourns John's death, but now Emma is free to live full time. Except she returns to spending her days sitting in a chair staring out the window, not really much of a life at all. The End

I don't wish to appear sex-crazed, but a small part of me would have really, really liked to see Maggie make a move on Emma. That's how tasty Cillian is in drag. But that, sadly, wasn't part of the director's vision.

I got irritated because in the making-of the director talks at great length about writing the script (for three years) and how Hitchcockian it is -- which I suppose it is. There are undoubtedly parallels that can be drawn between John and Norman Bates, a less violent Norman Bates. Hitchcockian, except for being heavily derivative, from Hitchcock. There's nothing wrong with being proud of your work, just don't try to pass it off as more than it actually is.

By contrast, I've watched this about 20 times and it still makes my heart stop.

I'm going to be a mess when these movies end. An absolute mess.

~*~

Last but not least, I took this pic of myself while testing a new photo app on my phone. I want it to be my author photo on my first book, though Tery says I look like those stupid greeting cards with dog faces using the fishbowl effect. Phooey.