PJ's in Chicago and Minneapolis this week, buying me cookbooks from upmarket restaurants and the Mall of America and picking up mammoth shipments from Amazon.com. I, on the other hand, continue to bake in this city on the IJ, praying desperately for some more rain to break this interminable heat. While doing so, I'm also indulging in vast amounts of oestrogen TV: Strong Medicine, Gilmore Girls, and, best of all, How To Make An American Quilt -- the 1995 Winona Ryder "classic". Perhaps it's a sign of my age, but I found Winona's "struggle" to decide on whether she should marry Dermot Mulroney -- mmm, Dermot Mulroney -- profoundly irritating. While the scriptwriter, director, and actress presumably saw this as the attempt by a mildly "kooky" free spirit to figure out what love means, while drawing on the wisdom of her quilt-making elders (and betters), it just came across as the self-indulgent whining of a spoilt adolescent. I just wanted to slap her -- and the equally annoying Gilmore Girls -- hard, tell her to grow up, and spend a little more time thinking about people with real problems. Guess I'd better not watch Reality Bites -- or just about any Winona Ryder movie other than Beetle Juice and Heathers -- again.
And yes, I realize the hypocrisy of complaining about someone's self-indulgent whining in a blog that is all about me and my bitter outbursts, but I don't care.
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