The raising of an old hope, brave and tattered

I am fighting a sinus infection. I hope I win. The next few days are lousy timing for being sick. In the meantime, it's headache, brain-fuzz, and exhaustion city.

Last year for Valentine's Day, derspatchel took pictures of me pursuing a hapless suan la chow show with my chopsticks at Mary Chung's. This year, I walked up Mass. Ave. in the balmy sunlight and flooding sidewalk slush to bring my husband chocolates from Evelyn & Angel's and a pamphlet for the 1914 Boylston Street Subway from Ward Maps. I had not planned on the rose, but they were selling them in ex-Shaw's and I've never been married to anyone to bring them home roses before. It is currently resting in a seltzer bottle on the dining room table. We had a splendid dinner at Saloon in Davis Square (we were sold on the charcuterie plate as soon as the server said "venison and wild boar paté") and got out just in time to see The Monuments Men (2014) at the Somerville Theatre. It's not a film for the ages, but it was fun and a very nice way to round off the day. handful_ofdust tagged me a Wittgenstein Valentine. I am way more charmed by this than is possibly healthy.

This afternoon is a meeting of the PMRP steering commitee (and it's starting to snow!) and tomorrow there is the Boston Science Fiction Film Festival's 'Thon. Rob and I plan to be there at noon. rushthatspeaks will join us after Boskone. Maybe we'll make twenty-four hours of movies. Maybe we won't. It will be magnificent no matter what.

And then on Monday afternoon I go straight from however many hours of science fiction film to a doctor's appointment, but that's all right. So long as I come home coherent enough to make my annual report, all will be well.