It's a wonderful tradition

I've earned some converts. I can't go as far as "disciples." I may lack the natural charisma and leadership presence for disciples. But people are coming around on It's a Wonderful Life.

We went last night. Alec and Val, Laurel and I--and Shane. He saw my post Tuesday and wanted in. Or maybe just wanted out of the house for a night. Whatever his reasons, we were 2 1/2 couples. Might have been three couples if he'd had more time to work up the nerve to ask a certain someone in his class out. Then again, that's a heck of a first date, to triple with a bunch of old people (to them; we're not actually old), so he would have had a nearly impossible sales job on his hands.

What a turnout at the Grand Illusion. I knew they'd been running It's a Wonderful Life every Christmas for a long time, but I didn't realize quite how long. This is their 48th year of doing it. Some of the people there last night seemed like they might have been there for all 48. It's a good thing we got there early, or we'd have never found five seats together.

Watching a movie I haven't seen in years is sort of like re-reading a favorite book. Certain details pop out at me in such a way that I begin to wonder if I noticed them before and forgot them or if this is the first time I picked up on them. Like when George tells that kid to stop annoying people as he steals Mary away from him at Harry's graduation party. There is a lot more humor in this movie than it seems to get credit for, probably because it tugs so hard at the ol' heartstrings in other places.

And, yeah, I cried at the end. Again. Laurel didn't seem to notice. Maybe because she was crying too. (I noticed.)

We went out for kebabs afterward and discussed the movie. Everyone had different favorite parts. And everyone voted to go again next year. I'll just pencil that one in for now, considering tonight was only my sixth date with Laurel. If we do wind up there for the 49th annual showing, we can look back on last night as the start of a nice tradition.

Bedford Falls, here we come

Quick, name the five longest movies you've ever watched.

Did It's a Wonderful Life show up? I was at Olaf's last night with Laurel and her neighbors, Alec and Val (a nice couple slightly older than us), and we got talking about Christmas movies. None of the three of them had ever watched It's a Wonderful Life all the way through. Laurel and Alec both have seen parts, but said it was too long to sit through the entire thing. Val has never seen any of it. I tried to explain that it's not that much longer than most movies, but most people think that because they only ever see it on cable, and the commercial breaks make it run for three hours, sometimes longer.

It's kind of unfair what cable has done to It's a Wonderful Life. On the one hand, having it on some channel somewhere almost every day from Thanksgiving through New Year's means that everyone has had a chance to see it, multiple times. On the other, it's almost turned it into a punch line. Which it doesn't deserve. It's a great movie, and it fully deserves the tremendous audience it's garnered over the past 70 years. And I, despite being the only one who wasn't imbibing, may have gotten a little obnoxious about not letting that go.

But I prevailed in the end. Sometimes persistence pays off. Laurel and I and Alec and Val are going to see It's a Wonderful Life tomorrow night at the Grand Illusion, uncut and uninterrupted, the way Frank Capra intended it when it was first released back in 1946. They run it at the Grand Illusion as a regular feature every December, and have for years. I've seen it there twice, though not in years. I haven't actually seen it on TV in at least 5-6 years.

So I'm jacked. I only hope no one notices if/when I start crying. Because I always do. Usually it's the part where Mary doesn't recognize George that sets me off. Plus or minus five minutes of that scene, anyway. Shhhhh.

Tis the season to be thankful

Every Thanksgiving at dinner, Drew's mom asks everyone to say one thing they're thankful for. Usually I can't think of anything, so I just say them, for inviting me. And everyone laughs, because it's the same thing I said last time. Seeing how I just lost my job and my book sales aren't exactly looking like they'll make up for the lost income (reminder, it's only a mere $3.99), I'm sure they'll understand if I fall back on the old gag once again tomorrow. But I've spent the last hour or so thinking about it, and I've come up with a few things that legitimately deserve mention.

Here's what I'm thankful for:

1. Yesterday outside Safeway, a woman and her daughter were giving away kittens. There were four in the box on my way in, and three left on my way out. I never had a pet when I was a kid. Rob never wanted one in the house. I don't think Janice did, either, but she would have caved if I had asked. Rob, not so much. I stopped and peered in the box just long enough to lock eyes with the mouthiest one. Black all over, with white paws and a white stripe on his nose. I needed someone, and he needed a home. I had to ask the woman to save him for me while I went back in the store and bought food, bowls, litter, a litter pan, and a little toy mouse. Free kittens are expensive. I'm not sure Drew was 100 percent in support of it, judging by his perplexed expression when he came home from work. But he knows me enough to know I'll clean up after it, so all he said was, "What's its name?" As it was literally biting and scratching me simultaneously at that moment, I went with Diafol, Welsh for Devil. It's not as mean to call someone the devil in another language. He is a little devil, but he's so cute, and he really seems to like me. So I'm thankful for Diafol.

Finding hope among the Unlucky 7

Today was my last day at McGlothlin-Zilch. Yes, that's the real actual name of the company I've been employed by for the last eight years and four months. I no longer fear getting fired for identifying it, as I've already been kicked to the curb. The separation agreement I signed prohibits me from "disparaging or holding up to ridicule the name of the Company, its current and former officers, agents, and employees." Reporting that I was laid off does not violate that clause. (Also, I don't think making fun of the name "Zilch" is what they mean by "holding up to ridicule," but since I'm not a lawyer, I'll let you make up your own Zilch jokes and I'll leave that one alone. Though don't imagine for a minute that you'll hit on any my co-workers haven't already shared.)

And share they did this afternoon. All afternoon. We were walked out, one by one (there are only two security officers in our building and one had to man the front desk), starting at 10:30. Which would have been a long time already to sit around doing nothing if I had arrived at 8:30 like usual, but my boss (a true humanitarian, and I don't mean that in any sarcastic, severance-agreement-defying way) told us all to not bother coming in until 10:00.

So one-by-one the Unlucky 7 were debriefed in the most perfunctory and pointless of exit interviews (actual question: "Would you recommend McGlothlin-Zilch as an employer to a friend?") then relieved of our employee ID badges and marched to the front door. One-by-one we gathered in the Four Norsemen down the street. Sunil and Courtney got there first. I was third. The others trickled in as I nursed my ginger ale. I was the only non-drinker, which is why I never made a habit out of joining them on post-work outings. I do go to bars, but usually to see a band or for some other specific reason.