Couch Life

I've already elaborated on the non-stop eating that I do when I go home.  Much of the eating takes place on our living room couch where my mom and I basically remain rooted throughout the day, like small and chirpy devices in a cushion-bedecked charger.

Sample interaction:
Me, looking through The Sartorialist for haircut ideas:  "How about this one?  Oh...My hair already looks like this."
Mom: [kicks me]

And then, just now, my mom singlehandedly came up with a brilliant scheme for how to potentially decide on some rent details in our Singapore apartment.  It's a good, good time.

Anyway, here I am, back on the couch again, and in dependable fashion, both Star Wars IV and The Fellowship of the Ring are on cable.  
Inexplicably, I've had two conversations with completely unrelated people recently about The Lord of the Rings.  I'm never sure how enthusiastically I should chime in...geeking out is kind of an all or nothing deal.  And yet I feel strangely tepid about arguing the case for my favorite non-humanoid Star Wars characters (Admiral Ackbar, Nien Nunb).  Or, sure, my own passing regret over no Tom Bombadil or Farmer Maggot scenes in the first LOTR movie.  But being a fan of anything, except maybe the Penn Music Department on Facebook, doesn't really feel like me.  These days.

Another beautiful quotation, this one posted high on the wall of a beautiful home furnishings shop in Hudson:
It was the queer old complexion of the long straight street, however, that most came home to me: Hudson, in the afternoon quiet, seemed to stretch back, with fumbling friendly hand, to the earliest outlook of my consciousness.
I wish I'd taken a photo now to depict in what an uncanny, and graceful, way, this summed up my own feelings about boutique-hopping in the quietest town ever.