Sharing Small Pleasures

I had the pleasure last night of watching, for what has to be the 100th time, While You Were Sleeping, one of my favorite romantic comedies. I truly never get tired of it. Ever. It's one of my "comfort" films. You know, those films you put in the DVD player when you simply want or need something that makes you feel good. One that you know you'll enjoy regardless of what's going on in your life at the time.

What made this time special was that I watched it with what's becoming my "go to" girl to watch films with - my nearly 12 year old. Despite having to explain what a "testicle" was, the film's pretty tame and comes by its PG rating with little difficulty. (As a side note, it's a sad day in America when my youngest daughter understands what a "ball" is and not a "testicle". Sad, sad.) Sweet, tender and funny, it's perfect for the budding romantic that she's becoming.

Ever since Rebecca left home there's been a vast, yawning void in movie watching companionship. Gone indeed are the days when I could easily suggest an impromptu sing-a-long of Buffy the Vampire Slayer's "Once More With Feeling" episode or a "Fast Forward the Film Until We Get to a Dr. Evil Scene That We Can Quote" look at Autin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me. While my husband is generally an acceptable, if not inventive, Movie Watching Partner, it's just not the same as watching with Rebecca.

My middle daughter? Well, her film watching habits mirror her reading habits, which means of course that any suggestion for lighter fare is often met with The Look. This is not a look that is designed to say "Wow. My mom sure has superior intelligence and I certainly need to emulate her in every way.". No indeed. That is not what The Look says. Trust me.

So that leaves me with the little one - the wee one - who somehow isn't so little or wee any longer. The one who doesn't roll her eyes when I suggest that it's surely time to watch Pride and Prejudice again or make me feel a bit silly that I think Viva Las Vegas might be just the ticket for the evening. She even, get this, wants to watch the special features on the DVDs with me! Not even Bec would do that.

It's absolutely lovely that she's now old enough to stay up a little too late and watch some of my favorite films with me. I can't wait until she's a bit older and we can watch all of my favorite films.

Well . . . almost.

I saw this post tonight and while my heart is so full of joy for my dear friend Kristin and her gorgeous daughter and granddaughter, those sweet pictures had me thinking of my own three daughters at the time of their birth and how it's impossible to imagine so much time has passed.

So while it's tempting to hurry time so I'll be able to watch The Matrix with my youngest, I think I'll just savor the time I have now.

(BTW: If you're interested in a great, in-depth discussion/analysis of While You Were Sleeping, check out The Sheila Variations' post on it. Great stuff.)

Just in Time for Your Workout Today

Seeing LoLCats on Bec's blog and reading Shallow Gal's comment on LOL Walrus and the Bucket led me to this:

Given the fact that my idea of exercise in the past has been generally how quickly I can turn the pages of the book I'm reading while sprawled on the sofa and the new knowledge that . . . umm . . . yeah . . exercise hurts -

I hear ya, Walrus. I seriously hear ya.

BTW, you can totally see that Walrus just wants to punch Perky Personal Trainer there, can't you?

Okay, so that's really just me and my pesky transference issues. Admit it though, the woman is enjoying her exercise just a bit too much for tolerance.

One more for good measure:


more animals

Monday, Monday

As is typical for us all here, yesterday was a useful and productive day.

Oh wait. That's right. That's in my other world.

I'm not going to bore you with my plans to tackle all of the mundane, desperately needed cleaning chores. As a general rule, I'm fairly tidy, but every now and then things (umm . . . my bathroom for instance) gets a bit, shall we say, neglected. Yesterday was the day that I was going to address that neglect.

100%.

At first anyway.

My main effort at order and cleanliness yesterday? How to best attempt to persuade my husband to clean our bath. Despite my best efforts, which of course you understand had to be subtle given the fact that he'd already cleaned one bathroom in the house, my bath remains untidy. Unclean. Unwashed. Deeply unpalatable. Also, apparently, inescapable. Damn the man for being so helpful that I couldn't feel righteously justified in asking him to tackle another bathroom.

Given the fact that I didn't clean my bathroom, one would expect, despite my convoluted and protracted efforts to escape the chore, that I'd had plenty of time to tackle the other job on my fairly small "to-do" list.

You would be mistaken.

In the corner of my dining room sits a little corner cupboard. Since I'm not too much of a seasonal "around the house" decorator, I generally confine seasonal offerings to my corner cupboard. Which works well. When I actually do it. The china on the shelves of the cupboard now includes the blue, white, and silver pieces that are specifically meant for my "winter" cupboard. No, I'm not getting a jump on the coming season - this is from last winter. I kid you not. Last winter.

Sitting forlornly as a small sign of hope never realized rests a sweet little vase my daughter purchased for my spring cupboard. A splash of vibrant green amongst all the pale winter colors. A constant reminder of my decorative inattention this year.

Time finally to rectify this decorating disaster!

Right away.

I'm committed 100% to getting this done.

Right after I clean the bathroom.

Title Trauma

Does anyone else have difficulty in thinking of a title for posts?

I thought of "Holy Crap, Look How Long It's Been Since I Posted!", but that seemed a bit silly given the fact that it's clear how long it's been since I posted. Pointing it out, particularly in a title, simply emphasizes the fact that I have absolutely no clue what I'm going to write about. The fact that statement is absolutely true has no bearing on the issue.

Maybe "Hi Again, It's Me"?

Yeah, I know. Trite. Silly. And, once again, clearly indicative of a lack of creative thought and an inability to produce purposeful prose.

"On My Bookshelf/Nightstand/Coffee Table"?

Well, that one might be okay if it wasn't a blatant rip-off of others' more insightful blogs. Then again, I could possibly live with unethical title poaching if I were reading something incredibly edifying and intellectual. I'm thinking that the chick lit fare that I've been reading lately doesn't quite qualify. In fact I recently spent precious moments before heading out to an appointment, late since I'm always late, desperately searching for something that at least looked like I might have a brain cell or two left to read in a waiting room where I was expected to spend some time. I ended up poaching my middle daughter's bookshelf where one can always find something thought provoking, intellectual and acceptable to carry in public.

You know, I don't even think she knows what 'chick lit' is. Although, let's be frank with each other - just how many books can we be expected to read to suitably enrich our understanding of the downtrodden, oppressed, or otherwise endangered peoples of the world in any given month?

Yeah. You know I ditched the book for the People magazine with Brad and Angelina on the cover the second I got in the office.

"I'd Love to Write But Things Have Been "Challenging" Here to Say the Least"?

Wordy and, come on, what a clunker of a downer. Who wants to read that? And, from an author's standpoint, who wants to be on the other end of the fallout that would surely ensue after "challenges" have been duly noted and explored? No. The "tell-all" blog and its variously easily written titles are not for me.

Well, I guess it'll just have to be . . . umm . . .

Hell. I have absolutely no idea. I'll think of something. Someday.

Thursday Thoughts

1. Lost is on tonight. Seriously. I haven't been this excited about a show since . . . well . . . since a very long time.

Whatever. You get the idea.

The show is absolutely killer right now. On a related note, if you're into the show and haven't yet seen these Lost recaps, check out Ack Attack. Hilarious stuff.

2. Emergency Room docs that look like your daughter's old boyfriend are a bit disconcerting for all, especially when you make him uncomfortable staring at him and muttering "Who the hell does this guy look like??" under your breath every time he comes into the room. Fortunately Supernaturally Talented Middle Daughter When It Comes to Figuring out People and Where They Come From (there for a respiratory distress episode - 'tis the season for ugly allergens - damn spring) finally figured out who he looked like, saving her mother from a trip upstairs to the pysch ward for "observation" or to the police station.

3. Shopping with middle daughter a month or so ago and begging like a little girl for her to shell out the bucks for the newest Sims 2 expansion because you're too cheap apparently pays off. *Bonus: Acting like Mother's Day is simply an excuse for children and others to use the holiday as a "Get Out of Jail" free card and "honor" their mothers for years means you get the present way earlier.

4. Having The Lives of Others for nearly 2 months from Netflix and still not watching it is appalling. Even more shameful than not watching what I know will be an exceptional film is what I have watched instead. Here's a sampling:
Legally Blonde 2
That Thing You Do
Galaxy Quest
While You Were Sleeping

Yeah, I'm an intellectual giant.

5. Posts that you try to write because your eldest daughter has not yet given you the masterpiece of art necessary for the piece you had expected to post by this time are not always the most shining example of any literary competence.

Come on, Bec - it's time to face your fear and get mommy the picture she needs. :p

Against Type

I watched the first disc of Ultraviolet (the BBC television mini series from 1998) recently. While watching it I was struck by the familiarity of the actors playing various roles. Try as I might though I couldn't pinpoint where I'd seen the actors in the past. This always happens to me. If I don't have my middle daughter around, who has some supernatural ability to pull actor identities and their various characters out of thin air, I'm sunk. Often I totally lose the narrative of the film attempting to figure out where on earth I've seen these people before.

One character in particular stood out for me. I absolutely could not place her at first.

After a bit I finally figured out where I'd seen this actor before.

Dear God, it's Miss Jane Bennett! In a vampire mini series, playing a character that I'm not entirely sure is - gulp - good, honest or ethical.

If you're interested, Ultraviolet, even with the shock of seeing Miss Jane Bennet acting the way Angie Marsh does, is definitely worth a look. Dark, atmospheric and complicated, at least during the first disc, I've seen it described as "more mature" than Buffy the Vampire Slayer even though it deals with much the same premise. So far the program hasn't attempted to be black and white in it's approach to the idea of "good" or "evil", opting instead for a more realistic exploration of the concepts and the conceit that comes with being in power. The blurring of any defining characteristics from either side is well done, giving you plenty of "human" characteristics from the "leeches" and monstrous actions from the humans.

Great stuff - even if my memory of Miss Jane Bennet (Susannah Harker) from the 1995 version of Pride and Prejudice (my favorite adaptation by far) has been forever impacted and altered.

You know though now that I think of it, while it's true that Jane's "goodness and disinterestedness does her credit", there was always something about that smile that had me wondering . . .

Baby Love

Babies.

Just the word makes me happy.

When they aren't mine that is.

I've been a parent now for nearly 25 years. During my tenure as a breeder, I've been many things to many different people, worn many different hats and been called many different things. I've been called the "cool" mom at times. I've been called the "good listener" mom. I'd also be willing to bet that I've been called a Not Nice Name mom on occasion as well. What I have not been called - ever - is Laid Back Mom.

Easygoing Mom.

Relaxed Mom.

Not now with daughters aged 23, 18 and 11 and certainly not when there were tiny.

A quick glance into my past will give you a clue as to why.

One evening when Rebecca was just a month or two old I had a sudden, insistent suspicion that she was deaf. Why? Well, because as she lay sleeping at my parent's house, I determined that she hadn't reacted as I thought she should to a noise. What's a concerned mother to do? I took her loudest rattle and shook it hard to see if she could hear it.

I'm serious. I shook the hell out of that thing.

Poor little thing looked like she was having a seizure she was so startled. Needless to say, I settled back, secure in the knowledge that she could indeed hear. Of course the rest of us couldn't hear over her ear piercing shrieks, but that's apparently the price you pay for peace of mind.

My middle? My youngest? I hesitate to tell you how anxious and concerned I've been over inconsequential things. From calling Poison Control because a baby might have, maybe, just possibly put an infinitesimal amount of a Gerbera Daisy petal somewhere near her lips to worrying that my 11 month old with chicken pox was always going to have a face that only a mother could love, it's safe to say that I've not always been comfortable as my daughters have grown up.

When the baby isn't mine however, I'm able to relax and truly enjoy him or her. Laugh indulgently at their antics, even when they include gerbera daisies. React without drama to circumstances that require quick and prompt attention. Calmly remove whatever foreign substance has found it's way despite vigilance into a mouth, nose or ear. Bask in the knowledge that I am Laid Back Mom - or at least Laid Back Woman Who Is Relaxed Around Any Child Other Than Her Own.

My friend brought her grandson over on Monday. 14 months old, just about the age that my middle and her youngest child was when we met, and I fell in love all over again with babies. He was utterly adorable. Chubby arms and legs, a grin that split his face (and reminded me so strongly of his father who was 6 when I met my friend), slobbery kisses and garbled words, all impossible to resist. My youngest thought so too.

Well, when she relaxed that is. She spent most of the visit hoovering and worrying. Gasping aloud in shock twice over what a baby can get into. Gesturing incredulously when neither his grandmother or myself acted with what she considered appropriate concern. Noting repeatedly that the baby was "making her nervous". All the while nearly melting when he turned his face toward her, hugged her or even whacked her with a block. When he and his grandmother left after nearly 2 hours though, she collapsed in exhaustion. A mere rag doll drained after her ordeal.

Guess the apple really doesn't fall far from the tree.

Poor thing.

Adventures in Reading

I'm a voracious reader. One who will, most of the time, enjoy reading a wide variety of books from an equally eclectic mix of genres.

Well, except for horror.

Horror, frankly, scares me. While I appreciate that the aim of horror is in fact to frighten people, I've learned that I don't much care for intentional terror. It's true that some who know me well will express some surprise at that statement and suggest that since they know I'm a total sucker for vampires, particularly ones that look like this, it's a bit disingenuous to say that I don't like horror.

I must scoff at this view because, come on, even if you're not into Billy Idol lookalikes, does this look like something you'd run away from? Totally doesn't count.

Nor do most books that deal with zombies. Again, it's true that some will assert that zombies are pretty scary things. I would have agreed with this view 10 years ago, but being forever attached to Rebecca means that I learned long ago to squelch any creeping feelings of dread, terror and general ickiness when faced with any number of films, graphic novels or books dealing with the walking dead.

So they don't count either.

Anything else in the horror grab bag of tricks? Absolutely out of my comfort zone.

Lately however, I've revisited my self imposed ban on horror novels because of Stephen King. Quite some time ago Mental Multivitamin mentioned Stephen King's On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft and I thought I'd take a look at it. Having read Dance Macabre years ago, I was fairly comfortable reading King's nonfiction and not too worried about any emotional repercussions from reading more. Besides I had been reading and enjoying him as the best part of Entertainment Weekly for a while, so what was there to be afraid of?

The book was, as are most of the books recommended by Mental Multivitamin, well worth reading. Having grown up near the area that Mr. King spent a portion of his childhood simply added to the appeal of this book for me. After finishing it, I decided to give his fiction another try. I say "another try", because the first time I read a Stephen King novel was Salem's Lot at age 14.

Let's just say that I struggled a bit with it.

As in I slept with a cross on my windowsill and begged anyone I thought might be Catholic for holy water for over a year. What can I say? This happened way before Spike made his prime time appearance and vampires still scared me.

Why potentially subject myself to this again, even so many years later? It's a good question. Honestly, after reading On Writing, I was really curious to take a look at his novels. So recently I read Christine. I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about this book. On the one hand, it was difficult to put down. It also caused some uneasiness, actually to the point where I didn't want to read it while in bed. I truly thought I was beyond being scared by a novel, but apparently I can still be unsettled by the written word. It was interesting to see themes in Christine that were discussed in On Writing, particularly those dealing with teen alienation and cliques. On the other hand though, the ending was deeply dissatisfying to me, although I'm not sure it should be. While we all want characters in a book to act in a superhuman way, with clear insight into how to solve a problem, real life simply isn't that way. So maybe the ending makes sense given the characters involved. Ultimately it was definitely worth a read.

Will I try another King novel? I'm not sure. I'm truly surprised at the reluctance I feel when thinking of attempting another. It's certainly not because I feel Christine was poorly written or plotted, it really is just that I'm uneasy at the thought of being frightened.

Guess that 14 yr. old is still there.

Wishes and Dreams

Tonight I took the youngest of my three girls (11) off to dinner and Dancing With the Stars at Grandma and Grandpa's place. (Don't even ask my why I'm still watching this. I'm obviously a total glutton for punishment) Distracted a bit by the swirl of barely there costumes and truly traumatic music selections, I nearly missed a statement my youngest made during the numerous and unending commercials.

"Oh man, I would truly like to have one of those."

Wistful, yearning and nearly desperate came this plea, voiced just above a murmur.

What is it that could cause such desire in a young one's heart?

Was it this?Not on your life.

How 'bout this?
Uh-huh. Not even close.

Surely this?

Umm . . . actually that's my Heart's Desire. Right. Now.

Okay then. This has got to be it, right?

On any other day? Absolutely. Tonight? Nope.

This is what my dear one wished for tonight: I kid you not.

If ever I thought I understood and knew my daughters after nearly a quarter of a century of parenting, I was obviously deluded.

A tractor?!

Housewifery Horrors

I realize that Rebecca has had her troubles with keeping a neat and tidy house. Those of us who have the great good fortune to live near Rebecca know this not only because she wrote about it or even because Wonder Woman couldn't wait to gossip about it, but because she, more often than not, threatens us with bodily harm if we dare to suggest an unexpected visit to her place might be a congenial way to spend an afternoon.

To borrow an expression from Rebecca that she uses frequently - pffft!

You ain't got nothin' on me, sister.

One day, nearly 2 weeks ago now, I had gotten up fairly early, but had not yet showered. I was expecting a quick visit from a friend who planned to drop off a few films for me to return to the video store for his family since they were on their way to a family vacation. Let me carefully say that again. I was expecting a child to pop up at the door, hand over the films, accept a hearty "Have a great time!" and leave.

Instead of my usual morning tidy-up, I decide to while away the time spent waiting for my friends playing the absolutely riveting game of Supercow. I hold my head up high and offer no apologies for this use of leisure time. However, given what happened, it would have at least been nice to be deeply involved in something that required more brain cells than stomping on numerous nefarious possessed farm criminals in order to fulfill my mission as savior of the barnyard. Picture if you will this scene:

• Two large baskets overflowing with clean, unfolded laundry atop the sofa - partly because one does have to admit the sofa is a handy surface to set things upon and partly because the stupid dog will not stop jumping on the sofa for a comfy nap spot when I'm out of the room necessitating the use of barriers.



• Said sofa with rip in the arm because of the above mentioned stupid dog (which, if I'm honest, I have to say I'm not terribly broken up about because we're buying a new sofa).



• Books piled haphazardly all through the room - tables, bookcases, various other available surfaces.



• Kitchen. Well, let's just say that it was looking a bit used.



• Hall bathroom. Dear God. It doesn't even bear thinking about.



• And me . . . playing Supercow.

Pulling me away from my vital barnyard mission, I answer the expected knock on the door. Did I see the sweet face of a child waiting to hand me a couple of DVDs? Well, yes. But that's not all I saw. I saw every damn one of the vacation party on my doorstep. All 6 of them. The four that I know extremely well and two that I know little about other than the mother keeps an immaculate house. Immaculate. As in no unfolded laundry. No dirty dishes. And, God help us, no bathroom that looks like it was recently used by a rugby team just off a muddy field.

Great.

At first I thought everything was going to be okay. Foolish of me given the fact that within a second or two of my startled greeting, I was told everyone needed to use the bathroom. Yes, that bathroom. Of course there are two other bathrooms in the house. While my bathroom was indeed actually clean, one had to tramp through the bedroom to get to it - something no one other than someone training for an Everest expedition relishes. The remaining one was utilized by the children, but given the fact that it's always utilized by children it's state of cleanliness was as questionable as the hall bath.

I need to stop relating this horror to you all now. The memory of this is obviously far too fresh to allow any more detail. My only solace then, and now, was the planning of a prodigious amount of innovative punishments for my middle daughter whose job it was to attend to both the kitchen and bath before she left for the day.

Comfort and solace comes in odd places sometimes.

Changes

Just a housekeeping note.

I'm trying out new blogger templates so if the blog looks more scattered than usual, you know why.

Now if I could just figure out how to fix the bugs in this template . . .

War, Loss and Sacrifice Hollywood Style

After rereading yesterday's post, I got a bit concerned that my disdain for the film Stop-Loss could potentially be interpreted as a lack of empathy or concern for anyone associated with our involvement with Iraq or Afghanistan. I'm not going to dissemble - I absolutely opposed our preemptive strike from the beginning. Regardless of my feelings about the war and occupation, I do care about the human toll. Deeply.

I've seen two films lately on veterans and the impact combat can have on them. Both of them, In the Valley of Elah and the aforementioned Stop-Loss, left me cold. Elah was written and directed by Paul Haggis of Crash fame, another film that I really disliked. I don't appreciate as a rule having a "good message" slam down on my head with all the finesse of a sledgehammer. Crash could have been a much better film, and forced more of us to truly examine ourselves, if it had shown more clearly the subtle forms of racism that exist in our world. As it was, it gave people a free pass simply because the examples of racism were so hamfisted that most people could breathe a sigh of relief and say "Well, of course I would never do that." It let us off the hook.

I see echoes of that approach to a message in both Elah and Stop-Loss. The examples of trauma experienced after combat are so extreme that they cause us to perhaps question whether someone who isn't digging a fox hole in the front yard, committing suicide, murdering fellow soldiers, or beating the woman in their life truly suffers any ill effect from their experiences in a combat zone. They allow us to avert our gaze from the returning soldier who shows more subtly in his or her reaction to the incredible stress, strain, terror or even extreme boredom they've experienced for 12 to 15 months at a time for sometimes 2 or 3 tours of duty. These films give us another free pass. Ostensibly they show us what the occupation is doing to our soldiers, but in reality they perhaps allow us to miss the true toll that the war demands from its participants. If we don't see the reality of that cost, then we don't have to examine whether or not the occupation is worth it. And, if it is, whether or not we're willing to make an equal sacrifice.

Then again, maybe there remains some merit to Stop-Loss. Apparently, according to a review by Entertainment Weekly, the film is an MTV Films production marketed primarily at teenage girls. I definitely see that. The stars of the film are gorgeous and, even at their worst, still sympathetic. The film infuses the issue with just enough of a romantic sensibility to appeal to girls swooning for a noble, tortured poet hero. All of that said, and all of that noted for its manipulative qualities, it did one thing for this decidedly not teen aged person. It made me truly stop for a second and really think about what is happening to the soldiers over there. What they bring back with them. What their families struggle to work through.

I've been so opposed to this war and occupation, so distressed with the whole "we'll kick your ass 'cause we're cowboys and the rules don't apply to us" mentality that I don't think that I've given enough thought to our soldiers. It's easy these days in America if you're not fighting over in Iraq or Afghanistan, or have someone you love over there, to simply not think too much about it. I can argue a lot about the philosophical and moral issues of preemptive strikes. I can talk knowledgeably about the amount of funding this occupation has cost. I can cite how each of my legislators voted on issues surrounding the terrorist attacks and subsequent actions in Iraq and Afghanistan. As I stated above, I've cared deeply about the human toll of the conflict but if I'm truly honest, it's been more in the abstract. Worse, at times it's been tempered by a frustration with our country and its armed forces fueled by Abu Ghraib, rendition and other allegations of torture. The scenes at the beginning of the film, even given the preponderance of an attitude expressed about Iraq that distresses me, did make me see soldiers a bit differently. Something Elah, a far better acted and shot film, didn't do.

So, I guess even with the hackneyed plot lines, the stereotypes, and the ridiculous acting, the film attempts to force Americans to do something that most Americans resist. It works hard to make us come out of our comfortable, affluent existence and realize that, despite the fact that we make no sacrifices over here in the name of a war, those who are over there certainly do.

Wisdom For Your Wednesday

Coercion rears its ugly head and I cower under its gaze.

Well . . . okay. So there's that flattery thing too. We all know that's really what I'm unable to resist.

What, you might ask, has been going on here since November when I last posted? What extraordinary insight do I have into the affairs of the day? Where is the eloquence and depth that you clamor for?

Brace yourselves.

For starters, Dancing With the Stars is utterly appalling this year. The reasons are legion, but I remain particularly traumatized by the Dancing With the Stars orchestra and singers butchering Roxanne as a couple (which one? It's impossible to tell - they are all interchangeable) danced the Tango. Yes, you heard me. The Tango. It simply doesn't bear thinking about another second.

Btw, who ever knew there were Wikipedia entries for songs??

Moving on.

It's always wise to double check resources being utilized while exploring Ancient Greece with an 11 and 12 year old (girl and boy respectively). Otherwise awkward moments could potentially ensue when reading about the Minoan culture - specifically the Minoan woman's choice of attire. Trying to act utterly nonchalant about bare-breasted Minoan women in the face of just-on-the-cusp-of-adolescence children is . . . oh who am I kidding? It's utterly impossible. Trust me.

Sitting in a theater with Kristin and Rebecca is quite clearly a mistake when a film like Stop-Loss is in the offing. I tell you this so that you may avoid the specter of potential social suicide. It's true that snorting hysterical laughter during a burial scene is indeed a social faux pas, but I maintain that there was no other reaction available to anyone watching that film.

When friends, relatives and total strangers on the street are aware of your oft repeated revulsion for country music, it's best not to be seen belting out the lyrics to Shania Twain's Any Man of Mine:

We all muck out stables in a midriff baring top. Ask anyone.

Oh yeah, there's that other song too - Coal Mine by Sara Evans


Damn you, husband o' mine for leaving that disc in the car.

Back to Your Regularly Scheduled Program

It's no surprise to anyone that I haven't been much in a blogging mood. There are complicated reasons for that. Some relating to the nature of the Internet and online communities which I feel have the potential to negatively impacting our local, "real life" communities, some related to simple stress and activity, and some related to the idea that if I don't have something profound to impart, I shouldn't post. I've decided if I'm going to continue with this blog though, I'll just post whatever content I choose, controversial or not, informative or not, funny or not, relevant or - oh, you get the idea. So, with that in mind - I will now reenter the world of blogging . . .

. . .

Okay, so that's not as easy as I thought it would be. There's just no help for it. I'll have to rely on a meme.

This is a meme (sort -of) that I found once upon a time, copied and pasted, but completely forgot to bookmark the site so it could be referenced. So, sadly, I have no idea where this movie meme came from but here are the rules:

Pick out ten favorite movies, then look them up at IMDb. In the overview at the top of each movie's page, there are "Plot Keywords," usually five of them. (Plus more, if you click the link.) Take the first five, and post them. Then the rest of us get to play movie buff and see if we can guess them.

Here are my 10 picks. It was hard to narrow down which ones to pick and frankly, I'm a bit taken aback at the plot keywords for some of them. Trust me, they're all real movies - ones that, despite the key words, you probably could watch in respectable company . . . well, mostly.

1. 19th Century / Sense / Intimacy / Lyrical / Colonel
2. Extramarital Affair / Transformation / Rough Sex / Battle Of The Sexes / Fiancee
3. Stabbed In The Leg / Attack / Stabbed In The Chest / Fantasy World / Fantasy Life
4. Public Domain / Death Of Daughter / Baby / Christmas / Adoption
5. Card Game / Male Female Relationship / Heart Condition / Love / Shoes
6. Class Differences / Fall From Height / Dog / Voyeur / Beautiful Woman
7. Exploding Body / Spoon / Altered Version Of Studio Logo / Mentor / Blown To Pieces
8. England / Sister / Britain / Male Female Relationship / Sister Sister Relationship
9. Shot In The Shoulder / Narration / Black Comedy / Corpse / Breasts
10. Critically Acclaimed / Disturbing / Blood On Shirt / Racism / Brawl

So, there we have it. Not only a new post, but a quiz! What luck for the three of you reading.

:-)

Answers to follow soon.

Great New Blog!

Go take a look at Island Hearth and Handicrafts. It's my friend Angie's new blog and I know you'll find it as terrific as I do.

Angie is a wonderfully talented woman, creating absolutely phenomenal works of art out of many different mediums. Several needle felted creations are pictured now. I can't tell you how detailed and amazing these pieces are. I've watched her create several of these pieces and it never fails to astonish me how a simple piece of wool roving and a barbed needle can become such beautifully realized pieces of art.

In addition to being so talented with a needle, Angie also creates the kind of home that many of us wish we'd created. Weekly visits to her home (along with a couple of other friends and their children) are a staple in my life. One that I wouldn't give up for anything. It almost feels like we've slipped back in time there - all sitting around with handwork, not only recreating the kind of supportive network for ourselves that has existed in decades past for women and children, but finding simple joy and beauty in what our hands create.

Angie's definitely been an inspiration to me and I know she'll be one to you too.

As I said in a comment on your blog, Angie: Welcome to the world of blogging. The Blogsphere is a better place with you in it!

Back Among the Semi-Coherent and Almost Relaxed

Sorry for the prolonged absence. To say that things have been "busy", "chaotic" or "stressful" really doesn't even begin to explain how life's been around our neck of the woods lately. My mother recently underwent heart valve replacement surgery and the build up to the surgery, as well as the very long two weeks after surgery, were stressful and occasionally frightening. I'm very pleased to say though that things seem to be looking up. I think we'd all agree that it's about time. We're all looking forward to relaxing and enjoying the remainder of our summer.

Many, many thanks to those of you who have been such good friends to me, both online and in real life. Your support has meant the absolute world to me and my family.

Oh, and Mom? I can't tell you how grateful I am to have my best friend back home and ready for a chick flick marathon. Love you.

A Heartfelt Thanks . . .

to the emergency room workers across the country, but most especially here in my little corner of the world. In nearly 23 years of parenting my husband and I have never had to utilize the services of any hospital emergency room for any of our children.

That changed last night.

Thanks to quick treatment leavened with humor and kindness, my nearly 18 year old daughter, who has suffered with asthma for the first time in her life this spring, was treated and sent home in far better shape than when she arrived.

Thank you from the depths of this mother's heart.

Full Disclosure

Well, it's killing me, but I'm going to have to come clean. In my previous post I noted that I was pleased that Lost had finished up its season before I became one of those sad, waif-like creatures desperately searching the web for some guidance, nay some inspired assistance, in navigating the strange and fearsomely fascinating layers of the Lost universe.

I lied. I apparently am neither glad that Lost has ended its season nor am I as free from obsession as I'd like to pretend.

I have just spent the last hour or so on the web reading blogs and following link after link in a futile effort to come to some understanding of Lost and where its headed. Surfing Lost sites when I should have been reading. When I should have been working on handwork. When I should have been doing the dishes. Heck, when I should have been sleeping.

But, there it is. I am a Lostaholic.

Truth can be ugly sometimes.

Thinking Happy Thoughts

Things have been pretty hectic around here and it's challenging to find a moment when I'm not obsessing, fretting or otherwise behaving like a MOC - that's "Mom Outta Control" for the uninitiated. You know, it was pretty much okay to want to dress my daughters and fix their hair when they were toddlers. In their late teens and early 20s? . . . Eh, not so much.

In a desperate act of attempting to distract myself from the encroaching and insidious effects of MOC syndrome, I've decided to share with you all a few things that are making me happy and keeping me from thinking about whether my daughters are dating axe murderers, wearing the right shade of eyeliner, reacting badly to the amount of pollen or pollutants in the air, or styling their hair in the nice way I showed them.

Without further ado:

1. My new toothbrush. It's pink and green. When you've gone to school in New England during the early eighties and utilized The Official Preppy Handbook by Lisa Birnbach as a guideline for all that is good and beautiful, the toothbrush matters. Seriously.

2. Watching favorite old movies and musicals like The Band Wagon, Meet Me in St. Louis and Friendly Persuasion with my youngest daughter.

Okay, who am I kidding? Yes, the films are fun, but it's the fact that the youngest is still only ten and I don't have to fret over who she's dating that's the true appeal. It's also true that she still lets me comb her hair and even occasionally style it as long as it's an appropriate style for any combat that might come the way of an elven warrior.

3. The Gilmore Girls seasons on DVD were inexpensive at Target recently.

4. I still remember how to crochet a granny square.

5. The laundry is all folded.

6. Lost is over for the season. Finally. It was shocking how much mental energy I have spent lately on this show. Now I can finally rest easy in the knowledge that I will not become one of those people who spend hours with Google trying to determine if an obscure reference on 'Lost" means something profound or is just a throw-away line by the writers. Just in time . . .

7. I have a stack of my favorite magazines waiting to be read. We will not dwell on the fact that so many remained unread because I was too busy obsessing about a. the daughters, b. Lost, or c. who will win on Dancing With the Stars and just revel in the glory that they exist to be read.

8. How lovely the backyard and garden are thanks to the hard work my husband has put in this spring. The roses on climbing over the little arch are particularly gorgeous. It's soothing just to look out there.

Off to enjoy the day!

Mother's Day

You know, I was all set to do somewhat of an anti-Mother's Day post. I'm not a big fan of Mother's Day and I felt it was my obligation to share with you all my indignation of the "Get Out of Jail Free" card that many families use Mother's (and Father's ) Day as. Then something changed. Kristin sent an email to several of us which included a link to say la vee's post of a piece by Anna Quindlen, a writer I've always enjoyed. Reading through this entry, I had tears in my eyes - something not often found on my face whenever and wherever Mother's Day is discussed. Then I popped over to The Sheila Variations and read her entry on Penny Serenade, one of my all time favorite films and I lost, for just a second anyway, all of my cynicism about Mother's Day and parenting in general.

I'm waiting now for my own mother and father to come for dinner, joining my three daughters and husband. Surrounded by so much evidence of how I'm loved and cherished, and how much I love and cherish my own mother, who can remain cynical?