I actually did more this weekend than sit around waiting for tows and feeling sorry for myself. On Sunday, while working on Christmas cards, I watched a couple Favorite Movies.

First Ladyhawke, which I hadn’t viewed in a while. I think that, of all the movies I’m especially fond of, Ladyhawke has to be the cheesiest. It’s not just the jarring musical score. It’s also the stilted dialogue. And the odd costumes. And the fact that we’ve grown accustomed to impressive CGI in our fantasies nowadays, and this production doesn’t measure up. And the plot holes you could ride a war horse through (why, for instance, after you’ve spent a whole day and nearly gotten yourselves killed capturing Etienne [in his wolf form] in a pit, do you just let him go the following morning?).

But the silly thing works. Mainly because the cast is absolutely top-notch. Rutger Hauer in his prime, when he’d freshly dropped his Dutch accent and made himself sound like Kirk Douglas, and was very nearly worthy of the sound. Michelle Pfeiffer at her most luminous (though I could have done without the short haircut). Matthew Broderick when he was still amusing. Leo McKern doing that Leo McKern thing. John Wood as a crazy, evil bishop (though the script—oh, what an innocent age that was—made it clear the Church had rejected him). Even Alfred Molina when he wasn’t famous yet.

And then I watched Scrooge, the musical production with Albert Finney. It’s part of my Christmas tradition to watch three different versions of A Christmas Carol, and this is first in the rotation.

It has many flaws, notably the weakish songs (though I’m quite fond of “December the 25th,” and “Thank You Very Much” always pleases). Tiny Tim makes me want to vomit, but all Tiny Tims do that.

On the plus side, it’s got Albert Finney, young and vigorous but doing a creditable old man. The screenplay benefits from highlighting the failure of his marriage engagement, which focuses his whole character arc.

And it occurred to me on this viewing that the big (rather overblown) production ending actually grafts the climax of the Gospel story of Zaccheus onto Dickens.

Can’t do better than that.

“Russia needs Russians to survive.” Apparently a very high rate of ending pregnancies continues in Russia. It’s unthinkable.

In other news, Planned Parenthood doesn’t believe child rape is a cause to fight against. Another clinic worker has been exposed for trying to sweep the rape of a 13-year-old under the rug in favor of aborting her baby.

Officials in the Guangdong province of China are warning the overly affectionate to kiss with care, if they must kiss at all. An unfortunate incident, in which a woman had hearing loss following a kiss, “prompted a series of articles in the local media warning of the dangers of excessive kissing. ‘While kissing is normally very safe, doctors advise people to proceed with caution,’ wrote the China Daily.”

But can we ever be sure that a kiss is safe? Maybe we should tax kissing to help pay for the health care costs it may incure.

(I shouldn’t do two posts like this one day, but perhaps you’ll understand.)

Our chances of a White Christmas look pretty good. We’ve got a substantial blanket now, and more is expected overnight. It’s always possible that it could still melt off before Christmas, but the balance of power has tipped.

I may very likely have to shovel snow in the morning.

It was a frustrating weekend. I’d planned to do some Christmas shopping, but Mrs. Hermanson failed me. (I mentioned this problem a few days ago, but it got worse.) The Chevy Tracker has an ignition system that requires the operator to depress the clutch while turning the key. Lately I’d been having trouble with it. It had been taking several minutes of repeated attempts to finally get her to turn over (my leg’s still stiff from bearing down on the clutch). The thing was, I’d had this sort of problem before, especially in cold weather, so I didn’t figure it was serious. But Saturday I found myself stranded in a shopping center parking lot. So I called AAA, and they towed me to a shop where (thank the Lord) a loaner was available. They didn’t get to my car until today.

Not surprisingly, it turned out not to be the simple thing the mechanics predicted, but something about twice as expensive. Add in some other prudent maintenance steps they suggested, most of which I had to admit were necessary, and I dropped three Cs today.

Ah well. That’s why God gave us credit cards.