One of the attributes we now note on shelf tags at the stores is local products -- which we define, broadly, as anything that is manufactured or produced in Washington State, Oregon, Idaho or British Columbia. There are three separate "local" flags we use internally, even though all of them only result in the word "LOCAL" showing up on shelf tags: "NW," which means anything from that range but outside Washington State; "Washington," which I hope is self-explanatory; and "Puget Sound," which is anything from Western Washington within, say, fifty miles of Puget Sound.
We're about to sell PCC-branded yogurts, and I emailed Scott and Chris to confirm whether they should be marked as local. Scott wrote back, "Yep they come from Othello Washington."
So Chris replied, "Othello – doesn’t McBeth live in that little Hamlet?"
I was hoping to go to Central Cinema with Evan last night, to see the "Hecklevision" presentation of The Lost World: Jurassic Park, sequel to my second-favorite movie of all time. I've never been to one of these "Hecklevision" showings, but they sound fun: snarky texts sent in my audience members get displayed up on the screen. But, Even wound up messaging me that she was not feeling well and couldn't make it. I'm usually all about going to movies by myself, but only have occasionally done so at Central Cinema, which doubles as a dinner theatre. I suppose I could have gone and sat in one of the single seats in the back rather than one of the booths. But deciding not to go helped save me more money, as I almost certainly would have ordered a snack or a drink, alone or not.
So, I decided to take myself to see Wind River instead. This movie was getting rather good reviews, and I was quite interested after learning it was both written and directed by the same writer of the superb 2015 and 2016 films, Sicario and Hell or High Water. Those other two films, which were directed by Denis Villeneuve and David McKenzie respectively, where not quite but nearly flawless; after Prisoners and Sicario I decided Villenueve was one to watch out for -- he then gave us last year's very good Arrival. McKenzie doesn't have quite the same profile, but I loved Hell or High Water. I found both that and Sicario to be uniquely insightful films about overlooked segments of Americana.
And Wind River makes a valiant effort at doing the same, with its own separate segment -- specifically Native Americans -- but is not quite as successful at it. It's still a very good movie, but just isn't on the same level as the other two. Well worth seeing; not quite as memorable in the long run.
The movie played at the Meridian 16 downtown at 6:10, so I had time to bike home, make myself a veggie hot dog for dinner, and walk back down to the movie. I walked home again, reading the library book I picked up while biking home: Eddie Izzard's memoir, Believe Me: A Memoir of Love, Death, and Jazz Chickens. I love his oddball sense of humor and it shows through from the start.
A rather short young lady came out of a business as I walked past and she immediately said to me, "That's dangerous!" I looked up from my book and said, "I do it all the time." She chuckled and said, "So do I." That rendered her first comment kind of strange, didn't it?
Once I got home I spent about an hour working on the review of the movie. I also cooked up some rice for Shobhit to use with one of the Indian meal packets once he got home from work around 10:30.
I keep wondering how many calories are in these leftover containers of macaroni salad I brought to the family picnic at Mason Lake last weekend. I had the final container for lunch today. Amazingly, it seems to get tastier the older it gets. Is this some magic from all the preservatives? Anyway, its calorie content is probably super high. That's what I'm guessing. It likely contributed to my weighing in yesterday morning at a shocking 147 lbs. I was back down to 145.9 this morning, which is usually cause for concern but this time was a relief since it was going in the right direction.
Speaking of Mason Lake, last weekend was at the very least the third time I've gone out there with family since I've been with Shobhit -- and Shobhit has still never been, after 13 years together. There was a family reunion there in 2004 during the weekend I had Nikki visiting; she was weeks from turning 12. I could have brought Shobhit to that one but made the conscious decision at the time not to, feeling like it was too soon as Shobhit and I had only been seeing each other two months at the time. Because of my track history of being a bit in-your-face when I came out six years before this, I was overly cautious now, not wanting to alienate family by bringing him to a huge family function so early. It turned out to be unnecessary; I'll never forget Uncle Paul, of all people, asking me, "Where's your friend?"
That was the one time Shobhit could have come but didn't; the other times he simply couldn't. I really wished he could come up for the scattering of Grandma and Granpa's ashes last September, which was the day before the get-together at Mason Lake, but he still needed to work and so he stayed in West Hollywood, where he still lived at the time -- until December. This year he was in town, but had two work shifts on that day. I was just looking through photos and was reminded he didn't even go to the family reunion in Long Beach in 2009. I can't remember why, but it must have also had to do with work. That said, he's clearly never prioritized time with my family the way I have -- he only comes with me so he can be with me.
Sherri said something that rather struck me this past Monday morning, though. "I can't remember a time when you and Shobhit weren't together." I mean, she's 65 and I've only been with Shobhit 13 of those years, so what she said is not strictly true, of course. It was still a heartwarming thing to hear. Sherri's one person who doesn't take shit from Shobhit, and will stand her ground if she has an issue with his behavior no matter how much it upsets him (which has happened a couple of times over the years), but she still seems genuinely fond of him. That makes me happy, no matter how much I bitch about him myself.
Anyway. The intent is for these family gatherings at Mason Lake to become a new annual summer tradition, so assuming they continue, Shobhit will have to come out there at some point.