Lisa: not a bad day

After I got yelled at by an old man in the Harmons parking lot (the note he left under my wiper: "the fact that you didn't see even see me tells me that you need to WAKE UP") and then accidentally honked at a cop, I needed a pick-me-up. Mallory and Marci came through.

One of Mallory's favorite things to do is go to the Friday-night Gallery Stroll, and I'm always glad when she convinces us to go. This week we started at Finch Lane, since they were showing Shawn Rossiter's 90-foot Tiamat, which circled one whole room of the gallery. I'm a Shawn Rossiter groupie, and I loved Tiamat and the idea behind it, but I am still disturbed that on November 4th it will be cut up and sold for $50 per square foot. I get it, but...it still seems wrong. Besides, someone has already spoken for Adam's groin.

Then we went to the Rio Grande train depot gallery where Simon Blundell, Mallory's mentor, had some photos being shown. The pretty art people in their glamorous clothes were out in force, and so were the sesame seed sugar cookies. Awesome.

Blake joined us for dinner at Paradise Bakery, where I almost had to throw down with a lesbian couple who were insulting my salad, and then we all met Maureen at the theater to watch the brain-meltingly awesome The Prestige. Between that and Little Miss Sunshine, I am regaining hope for American cinema--I think the last time that I enjoyed a movie so much was two years ago.