I have amazing friends.

Things have been really, really tough lately. Last night, to cheer us up, our upstairs neighbours came down laden with nibblies, Kaluha, and a copy of the special extended edition of The Fellowship of the Ring� and left it behind, an early Yule gift.

I was stunned, and grateful, and thrilled. If I hadn�t been so tired, I probably would have expressed it better. As it was, I had just sat through three and a half hours of very good film, and it was eleven-thirty at night, so I�m fairly certain that I managed to convey mildly stunned, but that�s about it.

General reaction to the extended edition? Valuable character development was cut out for the theatrical release (but as I�m on of the few who thinks character development is important, I�m not surprised); the fight scenes were trimmed (which means that die-hard fans get to watch more sword-swinging and arrow action and axe-whacking than before� and all with such finesse!); and some landscape shots were taken out. The latter two sort of cuts I understand, but there were some serious character bits removed that filled out events and gave them more grounding. All in all, I�d say that this is my preferred version. The pace is slower, yes, but it allows the film to breathe a bit, and a viewer can appreciate the sense of time passing in a way that the theatrical release did (could!) not.

We all found that the restored scenes seemed so natural that at times we couldn�t remember if they were indeed new or not. The other change that really stood out was the enhanced voice of the One Ring, turning it into an active, manipulative presence as opposed to the more passive role it plays (mainly as a foreboding visual focal point) in the theatrical release.

Then there�s all those extra discs that we haven�t even thought about looking at, yet. The four commentary tracks alone make up fourteen hours of viewing. And then there’s all those doumentaries on development, storyboards, costuming, sets…

All this has served to heighten my awareness that The Two Towers is being released in four days. Oh, the suspense!

So many, many thank-yous. You three are terrific.

I’ve spent this afternoon on the phone with pleasant switchboard operators at medical firms across Canada, doing research for a client. I have discovered, much to my surprise, that handling a phone in a non-retail environment is much less stressful than I had expected.

It’s good for a couple of laughs here and there, too. For example, at one point I called Proctor & Gamble, and jumped through the hoops required by their electronic phone system that sorts you around – you know, the ones that keep asking, “If you have called for information on X, press 1 now”. One of the choices I encountered was, “If you are calling for information on the Proctor & Gamble warehouse sale, please press 3 now.”

Warehouse sale? For a pharmaceutical firm?

I pondered it as I pressed buttons routing me (eventually) to the information I needed, and laughed at the ludicrous image it conjured up.

Warehouse sale, indeed.

Okay, so I was bored, and I did another of those ridiculous on-line quizzes that I swore I wouldn’t do anymore (and neither should you, so don’t look for a link).

This amused me though:

You’re hell’s librarian. You know more about the dark than anyone else, but you’re not really a part of it, it’s just a job to you, an opportunity to learn. Everything’s about the next life lesson; but if it’s a subject that doesn’t tickle your fancy, forget it, you’re stubborn with an iron will (you’d have to be). You’re smart *and* sexy!

How do they figure out so much from just asking you about your hair colour and the pet you’re the most likely to have? Unreal.

Oh, the image?

Ah, fantasy art. Never knew a pile of books could be so sexy, did you?

Sheesh.

December tenth? A release date of December tenth?

Howard Shore’s soundtrack for The Two Towers has been available for two days and I don’t have it yet?

Things are awry in the universe.

I must remedy them. This weekend sometime. Maybe.

Annika, Ceri and I went to the Salon des metiers d’art last night. Row upon row upon row of stuff: glass work, woolens, leatherwork, woodwork, candles, soaps, jewelry, sculpture, wall art, pottery. Nice vendors. Aggressive vendors. Shy vendors. It reminded me of the trade shows I’ve gone to, only more expensive.

It’s just too big. Annika and I burned out three-quarters of the way through and had to stop, fried and brain-dead. Ceri was still rarin’ to go.

I think it’s an age thing. Five and half years ago, I could game till four in the morning, and then get up and go to work for ten, and after work go downtown for a graduate class at night and not get home until quarter to midnight. Now, I’m regularly in bed at ten-thirty at night.

Poor Ceri. Out at the biggest, fanciest craft show in town, with two thirty-one year olds, artistically inclined and appreciative of the show in general, but betrayed by their decrepit bodies and need for sleep…

So explain to me why I hate the Charlie Brown Christmas album so much, but love the debut album by the Vince Guaraldi Trio.

No, I didn’t think you could, either.

It probably has something to do with the destructive over-playing of the same half-dozen Christmas albums every December. I like jazz. I like jazz Christmas songs. And yet, I do not like Vince Guaraldi’s Charlie Brown Christmas album.

Eh. Whatever.

My personal vote for the best Christmas album (meaning something different, with original takes on classics, as well as some rarely-heard seasonal stuff) is, in fact, Holly Cole’s Baby, It’s Cold Outside. I got all excited a day or so ago when I discovered a listing for another Holly Cole Christmas album, a Japanese release entitled Santa Baby: Live in Toronto, but it’s no longer available, and I have all the songs on other albums anyway.

My love for Baby, It’s Cold Outside is sourced not only by Holly’s incredible vocal treatment of the music, but particularly by the stellar recording of the title track, Frank Loesser’s Baby, It’s Cold Outside, performed as a duet with Ed Robertson from The Barenaked Ladies. For those of you who were at the Stuart McLean show last Friday, Lisa Lindo and Chris Whiteley did a decent job of it, although I still prefer Holly’s version. I could leave it on a repeat loop for hours. Not that I have; no, I’d be afraid of over-playing it and desensitizing myself to it! Christmas music rapidly becomes tiresome; I’d rather not have that happen to my favourite Christmas album, thanks.

Actually, there is another album that I love at Christmas, but it vanished from my collection over two years ago (and I hope whoever has it now is enjoying it, muttergrumblegrr). It’s A Waverly Consort Christmas. I finally broke down and special-ordered another copy, since I can’t seem to find it on the racks anywhere (which surprises me not at all, since it isn’t a pop or country singer’s rehash of seasonal chestnuts). It will be four to six weeks before it arrives, naturally. At least I’ll have it for next December.

I think I’ve hit on a pretty decent plan.

I wake up; I get out of bed right away. I wash, make tea, log on my computer, and work for at least two hours, preferably four, before I even think of taking a break.

Yesterday, I wrote a freelance article. Today, I did a slew of research on Montreal publishers and writers, and wrote a slew of requests for review copies for the magazine.

There’s only one thing preventing all this work from being resolved: my work e-mail is giving me grief. I can receive, but I cannot send. Eudora keeps telling me sweetly that it’s connecting, but that the connection times out.

So let me get this straight: this set-up and connection will merrily receive, but it will not deliver outgoing mail. It connects to the same IP number at the other end.

Grr.

In the meantime, I have a pile of letters and requests for review copies and press releases sitting here. I’m so close. Almost there.

I think I need more tea.