Back to The Edge, for a minute

We don't call these "movies for life," for no reason. As Jess and I have said more than once, what gave us the idea to write about "our" films was--not that either of us harbored a secret desire to be a movie critic, but--that lines and scenes from these movies pop aphoristically onto the screen of our inner consciousness, just when we need them. Our favorites have become our friends, and they speak to us (exhort, admonish, caution, rave, celebrate, chastise) as resoundingly as does any other member of our support group. It's a bit like having an entire conversation made up of Willie Nelson song lyrics (something I heard on KUT, day before yesterday: Willie's birthday): yeah; like that!

So, even though I'm currently writing about another movie, I'm having an Edge moment, and I think I'll write about that, instead.

Here's the back story. I set goals for myself, goals and limits: milestones and budgets. As a freelance writer and editor, there's a lot riding on my abiding by the rules I set for myself after much careful thought and planning. This morning, I took a look in the coffers, and one of them is not where it should be. What was my extravagance? Gasoline and auto repairs; a squirrel unexpectedly built a nest in my engine, doing hundreds of dollars of damage. Also, I bought a shirt, and a whole mess of glass canisters so as to take back my pantry from fruit flies. It's not that I can't afford these things; it's that I think about where every penny goes, these days, and on my current budget, if I have to spend this money, it has to come from somewhere else, like entertainment. Dave Ramsey says this is a good habit to get into, and I have developed it.

Anyway, now I am faced with a dilemma: do I cut out some of my precious Hill Country trips in May and June? or do I raid my burgeoning savings account, which is burgeoning precisely because I do not raid it? Washing the dishes, the answer comes to me: stick close to home, spend less on gas, do X instead of Y, since X is just as interesting, and Y is 577 miles farther away. (Okay, Y is the trip to El Paso to see old friends, in case you're wondering.)

Done. And I think, suddenly: because we have the six matches left, and that's--all we'll need.

Who's this? Ah! This is Charles Morse telling Bob, after they've hiked all day in a great big circle and ended up back at their dead campsite from the day before, 'We're going to make it! Why? Because we have six matches. Enough for six campfires.'

As long as no squirrel builds a nest in--well, you get the point.

Trink has a full day of work ahead of her, she is happy to report.