Catalyst's big Oscar predictions

I'm 11 days ahead of the actual ceremony but here are my Oscar winner picks at this year's Academy Awards for 7 awards. An asterisk (*) indicates I have not yet seen the movie.

Foreign Language Film:

"The White Ribbon" *


Supporting Actress:

Mo'Nique in "Precious: Based on the novel 'Push' by Sapphire" *


Supporting Actor:

Christoph Waltz in "Inglorious Basterds" *


Actress in a Leading Role:

Meryl Streep in "Julie and Julia"


Actor in a Leading Role:

Jeff Bridges in "Crazy Heart"


Best Director:

Kathryn Bigelow for "The Hurt Locker"


Best Movie:

The Hurt Locker

I know this goes against the huge push for "Avator" and James Cameron and I have not seen the movie. But I was so impressed by the Hurt Locker and by the fact that this high testosterone movie was directed so well by a woman that I can't overlook it. And things I've read about Avatar and its big-ego director make me believe the Academy may turn on it.

March 7th . . we'll all see.

Magpie Tales II (Two)

The Hotel Forum. Now, the Hotel Crowne Plaza. In Bratislava. How the times have changed. Slovakia. It dates back to 270,000 BCE. Before the Christian Era. Not the hotel. The country. But it’s all changed. Now the Hotel Forum is the Hotel Crowne Plaza. It’s still across the street from the Presidential Palace. But it’s different.

Restaurant Magd a Lena is still there. But there is now Restaurant Fusion. Fusion? What the hell is that? Fusion music is awful. What can the restaurant be like?

But . . . the Forum. Let’s take it back in time.

I was there in 1959. It was dark then. The rooms were lit by multiple candles. It was warm, from the heat of many fireplaces and by the ambience of those candles. Hundreds of candles, throughout the restaurant and the hotel and the halls. Candles in sconces on the walls. Warm. Beautiful.

There were exotic women in gorgeous gowns. Men in tuxedos. Gourmet meals. Champagne.

And then.

(No, I didn’t wake up.)

There was more.

I was posing as a businessman but I was really an operative for a government agency I won’t identify, even now. I waited inside the hotel lobby, looking for a certain man.

Then I saw him. He was tall. He had a dark moustache. He had dark hair. His eyes were intense, also dark, betraying nothing except that he was dangerous. He and I had long been enemies. I had been told he was in Bratislava to assassinate the president. He was Drago.

Our eyes met and he smiled slightly as we nodded to each other. I walked slowly into the cognac bar at the hotel. He followed. I sat at a small round table. He gazed around the room. We were alone in the room except for a bartender who was watching a noisy soccer game on the television over the bar. Then he approached me, pulled out a chair and carefully sat down at the same table. We each ordered and the bartender brought us our cognacs. I gazed into his eyes as we both sipped from our glasses. We knew we were enemies. Yet friends.

I drew a cigarette from my pack of Gauloises and offered him one. He declined and took one from his own pack. A Russian cigarette. He took out the matches from his box . . . Hotel Forum, Bratislava . . . and moved to light his cigarette. In the glare from his matchlight, I quickly pulled my silenced gun and shot him between the eyes. And killed him. The bartender heard nothing over the blaring sound from his television.

I left Drago’s burnt match lying across the open box on the table and slipped quietly out of the bar.

The president was safe.

For now.

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This is the second in a set of writing exercises under the name of Magpie Tales, organized by Willow. You can read more and join the fun by clicking here.

Snow

We got hit with a snowstorm this morning. Not much but enough to whiten the territory.

By noon the sun was out and the snow was rapidly melting. But my buddy, Reed, has visitors in from Juneau, Alaska, and they (Princess ME and her guy JO) said it was colder with more snow than they had at home!

Winter returns - - - - - maybe

Today was a perfect example of that old saw - "If you don't like the weather, just wait a minute."

The weather forecast says we could get 5 to 8 inches of snow tonight. We'll see.

Update: It's now down to 1 to 3 inches of snow if we get anything.

In the meantime, here are some sky scenes all shot within a few minutes of each other.

R.I.P. Smoky

This is our big boy cat Smoke. We had to put him down today. He got sick, seemingly in 24 hours, and when a veterinarian examined him this morning, he found his red blood cells were down to nearly nothing. It was probably feline leukemia.

It's a pretty sad day around here but I wanted to leave a tribute to a great cat.

I used to joke that when he was younger he liked to read.

He adopted us one day but grew to be larger than either of his step-sisters. Even so he was the most placid of the three. Jazz (on the left) used to hiss and growl at him but Smoke never retaliated. Occasionally Muggles (center) used to have words with him. Smoke just gazed at him.

While he was the only one of the cats we allowed to go outdoors, he spent a lot of time in contemplative poses inside.

But when he did go out he seemed to be a natural poser for my camera.

Or a snoozer on my deck chair.

He was nimble, whether tip-toeing around the edge of a fountain for a sip or two of water . . .

. . . or doing his gravity-defying walk across the top of the fence.

He liked to snooze on the tiles, while keeping a lookout for any brave small birds, or lizards, or bugs.

He is gone now and he will be missed. Our Smoky.

Signs of spring

Even though they came in pots from stores, just the appearance of tulips and heather raise hopes of warmer temperatures and perhaps the end of gray, snowy days.

Magpie Tales #1

I walked into the dusty, dark antique store in Ankara, Turkey. Stopping to adjust my eyes to the lack of light, I gradually began to see outlines of objects scattered here and there in the dusky light.

My eyes scanned ancient swords, broken pottery, stuffed owls, long out of date clothing, and then - - - the pot. A pewter pot. It was about 12 inches tall, with an intricately curved handle on one side, engraved with strange cueniform along the top edge and a wreath on it’s front surface.

I carefully reached out and picked it up. It was heavier than it looked. I used my right hand to grasp the handle and my left caressed the other side as I balanced it in my hands.

And then.

A puff of smoke came from the inside of the vessel, rising and building in the air and slowly forming into the turbaned head of . . . a genie. He gazed down on me with a fierce expression. He opened his mouth to speak.

And then I woke up.

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This was a writing exercise prompted by Willow. It is explained at Magpie Tales. Click on it for the rules and to join in, if you like.