Good weekend. We had a garage sale and made a couple hundred bucks and a big hole in our stuff. By noon we'd sold down to just a few tubs of stuff that clearly wasn't what the market wanted, so we bundled it all up, took it to the Restore and Salvation Army, then went home to wait for my parents to arrive. The next 24 hours was quality time with Mom and Dad, including a trip to see Hairspray, which was a hell of a lot of fun, but also spurred a nice discussion of social change, spiced liberally with my parents memories of the sixties. (From my dad: "I don't remember 1962 having quite so many '63 Chevys on the streets...")
And then last night, Christie and I took in the Bourne Ultimatum. She mostly watched it with her eyes closed, but I'm a huge fan of the series, and this one didn't disappoint. It's a joy to watch an action movie that not only doesn't insult the intelligence of its viewers, it indulges it. It took me a second to realize that the entire first half of the movie is set between the end of the action in the last movie and the epilogue, and it's done very nicely.
Here's the thing, though. His real name, as revealed in the epilogue of the second film, is David Webb, and he was born in Nixa, Missouri. Which is weird, because a friend's little brother growing up was named David Webb, and I kept imagining little David, who would get so mad when we made fun of him, growing up to become an unstoppable assassin.