A word about my treadmill. I looooove it so much it brings grateful tears to my eyes. It's a NordicTrak7000 model with an extra long wood deck. I bought it 5 years ago and have never once regretted how much money I paid for it (I do miss my arm and leg, however). The motor, the deck, and the belt have been meticulously matainted and I am so very grateful to have it in my house when it is 12 degrees and dark outside at 6:00 a.m. So, since my grand return to the treadmill I think I will post my movie reviews because the treadmill and the weather combined have me hanging to 10MM for dear life. I feel like a hero just for running at all-- forget any fast running. Anyway, after watching 'Yes Man' last week, I wanted to find another movie that sported an equally positive and 'anything's possible' message. So I tried to watch Field of Dreams, which I never saw when it was new. I don't think I have ever hated a movie as much as I hated Field of Dreams. I have tried not to hate Kevin Cosner, because I wanted to like Dances with Wolves, but now it's official. He's an idiot. OK, Field of Dreams was a movie about grown-up teenagers from the 60's trying desperately to find meaning in the transcendental time they wasted being on LSD at Berkely and dissing their parents who died before anyone could appologize for being stupid teenagers. However, rather than accept the responsiblity for being idotic and young, the middle-aged hippes begin to give creedence to their lingering acid flashbacks, and build a baseball diamond in the middle of an Iowa cornfield so they can make money on other people and/or ghosts, who also are having acid flashback and equally searching to place value on their much wated time as hippies,or who once played baseball for the major leagues but are now dead. Baseball, of course being the symbol of 'old America' and of their parents traditional values. However, the baseball field & the players, as well as any meaning to the time young people lost in the 1960's to civil disobedience, preservation of American 'freedom', and of course drugs, turns out to be wasted and imaginary-- lost on the rest of the sane people, particularly those running on a treadmill at 6:00 a.m. The end. Join me next week when I review: Food, Inc. | 