If you haven't noticed lately, Kim and I have been engaging in a semi-hibernation, if you will. December does this to me every year: a general malaise comes about me just when life gets to be its most chaotic. I'm finding it even difficult to nail down a day to go see Atonement, which I've been looking forward to all year, and which has been getting rave reviews.
Kim has a better excuse than I do for all this: She's getting ready (any day now, in fact) to move across the Pond to try to make the measly U.S. dollar work for her in London. (I am jealous as all heck.)
I, meanwhile, am in the last throes of wedding planning, and it's making me wish my wedding could just be like it is in an Austen film: One minute the dashing, breeches-clad gent is on bended knee quavering heartfelt proclamations as I look on with tears welling. Cut to me and said breeches-clad gent emerging joyfully from some chapel with local villagers dancing around and waving streamers. No caterers to pay. No fire permits to be obtained. No half-assed attempts to make placecards on InDesign.
Anyway, we were so good at posting to this blog a month ago, and now, we've discarded it like that glob of cranberry sauce still hanging out in the fridge leftover from Thanksgiving.
To that end, I actually spent three minutes looking for some literary adaptation news to write about today and aside from finding that Colin Firth's signed on for a 3-D version of a Dickens classic, I got nothin'.
So instead, here's a link to this day in British malfeasant history.
Hopefully when Kim's settled into her airy and light-filled flat in Notting Hill, complete with low rent and two fireplaces (we can dream, can't we?) she'll give us weekly correspondence to make us turn green with envy.
And hopefully, I can weigh in on Atonment next week! In the meantime, here's an article on the film's to-die-for fashions from the L.A. Times.