Peeping In

Last Friday Bob and I had a three hour window between dropping kids off and picking up others from parties.  We headed out for an early anniversary dinner, then came home to start a film.  I chose “Zack and Miri Make a Porno” which I had just rented, since I knew it was completely kid-inappropriate and we had an empty house.  The film began raunchy yet funny, and though we watched the whole thing, I became semi-bored as it turned repetitive and predictable. A little disappointing, based on the reviews I had initially seen (and I usually like Seth Rogan’s films).

Two nights later, while watching the Bears game, I took the puppy Cali out to do her business.  As  I walked on our side yard  by our neighbor’s driveway, I realized that in the dark anyone there has a clear shot to seeing what we are watching on TV. How could I not have noticed that before?  We don’t have window coverings on our kitchen windows, so there is no way to block the view.

So, were the neighbors–or their daughters–in the driveway on Friday night?  It was before ten and they have 3 teenage girls, so most likely someone was out there.   Did they happen to glance in our window?  Did they think we were watching porn on an early evening, instead of watching a film about making a porn movie (with a few porn stars who dropped their clothes easily)?  Were they curious and watched longer?  Or did no one notice?

It gave me a great laugh on a Sunday night, just wondering.  More amusing than some parts of ” Zack and Miri”  (re-titled now that it is available in the library).  C

 

Julie & Julia & Friends & Dreams

Short notice, but five neighborhood friends went to see Julie & Julia this week. I loved the way the story was told, with two tales simultaneously developing, intertwined and funny and downtrodden and quirky.  We sputtered and laughed and hoped for success for both protagonists, as they followed their food-filled (and too meat-filled for me, sorry Patty who sat next to me) dreams.  The costumes and sets were perfection, and the film made me want to return to Paris NOW.

Meryl Streep was, as always, incredible with the lilting accents and mannerisms and movements that I remember from when my mother used to watch Julia Child on TV, when I was a child.  Debonaire Stanley Tucci was her husband, so in love and involved as she wrote and cooked and wrote and cooked and…  Amy Smart was funny and neurotic, a bit over the top at time, but sweet.

As much as I loved watching the story develop,  it made me sad.  The dreams  I once had, fading as life  moves forward and I am caught in the wave of time and children and mortgages and jobs and mopping the floors and and volunteer work and keeping on top of  the family schedule with military-like precision, until rain changes three practices, and aging families and friends in need.

How many people are staring at their screens after watching that film, trying to write their first blog searching for quick fame, with blank thoughts, no stories to tell?  And don’t realize how challenging it can be to write day after day?   How many other brilliant writers are out there penning away, unnoticed?  What makes a blog catch fire?  Sometimes it’s the real, sometimes it’s the fraud–like the woman who claimed to be pregnant, got all kinds of sponsors and uh-oh she wasn’t pregnant.  What? someone lied on the internet?

We would all love to come home to 65 phone messages like Julie, with offers and names and deals and opportunities to do work we dream about.  A smidgeon of extremely lucky people do what they love each day, not the masses.  We might live through them, while following our own paths.  Even as we grasp at our dream remnants we can only hope for the support system of spouse and friends from the film, cheering each zig-zag step forward.

In my mind, a successful film is one that makes me forget I am sitting in the dark–transporting me to become an invisible participant–gives me reason to feel true emotion while watching, to talk about it afterwards, and to make me think about the major and/or minor issues in it long after the screen is dark.  In all of these goals, Julie & Julia succeeded.   C

 

Musical Changes

“Regret” by New Order was first.  The next time it was “Love My Way” by The Psychedelic Furs, followed by “Another Nail in my Heart” by Squeeze.  These were all songs we danced to in the 80’s at “new wave” and punk clubs in Chicago with names like Neo, Club 950, Avalon, Clubland (greatest new year’s bashes!) Exit and of course–the Lizard Lounge– that most of our friends did not know or understand, and most radio stations did not dare play for fear of reaching outside the top 40 or big-haired rock realms.

All had great dance rhythm, and we could–err, would–dance all night.  On the dance floor, on the bar, on our couches at late night parties, a Christmas tree swaying in the background of one video.

And in the past two weeks I have heard ALL these songs at the grocery store!!, Trader Joe’s at least, but still.  Our once-new, different music playing while shopping for Wasabi mayo and samosas and orange juice and hummus.  How cliche, how old I felt, how everyday….but they all still made me want to dance. Some things don’t go out of style, for me. C

 

Drive-in on UP

Do you have childhood memories of going to the drive-in in your pajamas, sprawled in the back of the station wagon or atop the car, straining to listen to the tinny sound of the voice box (seeing Peter Pan comes clearly to mind)?  Or high school memories of cramming a dozen people in a car, possibly a few in the trunk, hiding beers in coolers, to run around the parking lot, probably annoying many other viewers, barely watching the film?  

We went with three other families to the drive-in last weekend and saw the new Pixar film UP, a chilly but clear night, the drive-in filled with cars of families and teens and friends.  Not too much had changed at the drive-in, other than my perspective, perhaps. Our kids were comfy in their sweats, some did fall asleep in the back of the SUV’s, bowls of homemade popcorn in their laps, chilled wine and beer aplenty for the drivers,  the film enjoyable with the sound slightly better on the car radio. 

What a wholesome, family-filled way to spend time, talking with friends, kids playing baseball before darkness sets, anticipation of a great movie, a party like atmosphere wafting about all the cars.  Our kids enjoy the experience, we get to catch up with friends, and we can all see a film together. C

 

Granny Can Dance

Granny tapped her foot to the rhythm over and again, as the middle school jazz band hopped through their songs.  Her husband next to her, hearing aid hidden and ball cap on his head, slowly pumping his ring finger to “Sing! Sing! Sing!” but it was granny–with her blue plaid shirt and pink Keds that I watched.

There she was in my mind, twirling on the floor with shimmering eyes, a teasing glint and flirty smile, blue chiffon spinning with a petticoat peeking from underneath, white ankle gloves and matching handbag on the table. Laughing, pearl teeth under red lipstick, as she flows, jumps, and spins around the dance floor, the brass pumping in the background.

Is she remembering the live band?  An icy drink?  A first kiss? A secrert glance?  the smell of gardenias?  They must be happy memories, as her foot continues tapping. 

And I wonder, will I feel this same way in 25 years if I hear the music of my youth?  Or my growing older? or my children?  C

 

Maxx & Annie & Zoe & Us

OK, so maybe it wasn’t such a great idea for the family to watch Marley & Me last weekend, our first night back in the house after putting Annie to sleep.  Funny, sweet, sentimental, and so sad at the end you know is coming, but a bit more graphic than I expected.  But, a far more enjoyable film than I expected, for some reason.

And just to torture ourselves, we were given the movie as a gift yesterday from my in-laws and we all watched it again, since four of our guests had not seen it.  Is it possible to see that film without crying at the end?  Not yet, for me anyways.

At least it confirmed that Maxx was NOT the worst dog in existence, and the tender, lovely moments like when Marley let Jen cry on him, and how he could not sleep when she was in labor–though she was sleeping– reminded us of how intuitive doegs are, why we want them to be part of our homes, our families, our lives.

My big complaint about the film is that while Marley ages dramatically throughout, the owners do not at all.  And that scene where the family is in the pool after the third child Colleen  is born….no, Jen never had children.  Fit and muscular, I don’t think so.

I truly think you have to have owned and put down a pet to fully appreciate this film.  The loss is wider than you dream possible, as my mother-in-law teared up afterwards remembering putting down dogs from long before I knew their family. But the joy they bring makes us repeat the cycle.  C

 

A Dog’s View

What do our dogs think, as we go through our daily routines and family growth and contractions and changes?  I wonder it often,  as Zoe follows me around the house, wanting to go on every car ride, every walk, giving loving kisses when her family is sad.  And Annie, as she ages (17 in two months!) does she still want to be here, with her creaking bones and slips on the stairs, but always the most gentle of creatures I know?

Zoe and fave toy

 

Annie and the snow

I just read an interesting novel called The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein,  the entire story told from the dog’s point of view.  Do they really have human thoughts as they watch TV with us, go on our physical and spiritual journeys, become part of our worlds as we age together?

The story itself is hopeful, heartbreaking, and honest.  No spoilers here, you will have to indulge yourself in the story. It will be worth the journey. Can a dog tell a story that isn’t true, without embellishments?  I doubt it.  I have no interest in auto racing, but I found the parallels in the driver stories and life to be fitting, and they kept my interest throughout. 

Some of the quotes made me think about my life, and how I need to step up to more challenges:

“There is no dishoner in losing the race,” Don said. “There is only dishonor in not racing because you are afraid to lose.”

Wow–how many times do we NOT take the chance because we are afraid to lose? Or become complacent in what we know.  We can only grow and learn and experience by trying.

And from Enzo, the dog,

“Inside each of us resides the truth,” I began, “the absolute truth.  But sometimes we believe we are viewing the real thing, when in fact we are viewing a facsimile, a distortion….”

The post dedicated to my friend Kerry and her Lab friend Gracie, who just left us.

C

 

S-S-s-s-s-atisfying Read

I am amazed that the novel I finished this morning is a debut book.  It is richly worded, tightly drawn, with strong, varied characters and locations I could visualize, about an era, time and place very distant from my existence.  This must-read book is Serpent Box, by Vincent Louis Carrella. 

Serpent Box takes place in the deep south, late 1930’s, in the land of wandering preachers who drink lye and handle snakes to prove the Holy Spirit is with them.  The loving, roving family in this book truly came to life, with young Jacob Flint-the boy born inside the lynching tree–following in his father’s footsteps of becoming a snake handler preacher, feeling both the love and unending-pressure of the Holy Spirit with his every breath.

As they continue on their physical and spiritual journey to build their church, the road is difficult and filled with extremely unexpected twists.  I knew nothing about hidden-from-roadside, snake-handling, poison-drinking, speaking-in-tongues churches until I read this book, and their fervent beliefs. 

This book covers a huge range of emotions, from hate to despair to love to hope to fear to the thought that… ”He [Hosea] promised himself that he would live every single day , not as if it were his last but as if it were his first.”

Serpent Box is a fascinating read. Then learning about Carella’s life and almost random inspiration for the book (photos of Appalachian life including snake handlers) and his jouney to develop the storyline and characters brought it full-circle (symbolism he would appreciate I think).   Just don’t carry it too deep in the words with you, especially with your jar of lye and Bible.  C

 

Opening Night Comparisons

Another opening night, more girls screaming.  Where do they learn this?  In Twilight, the anticipation to see Edward Cullen (the vampire hero) built, while in High School Musical 3 Zac Efron completely filled the screen at the beginning of the film, both appearances greeted with shouts and clapping.

As I sat through Twilight, I wondered which was a more realistic interpretation of high school.  Was it the bubble-gum happy world of HSM, with all jealousies and problems resolved at the end of the film or a world where vampires inhabit the school, mysterious and beautiful?  Both films included the brainy heroine, though both short a little in the common sense area (one leaves HS before her graduation and one is obsessed with a killer). Both also include the handsome, perfect-man boyfriend, one with charm who can sing, dance and play basketball, the other sexy, enigmatic, and able to climb walls, fly, and kill you with one long bite.

The film of Twilight was entertaining,  following the story faithfully. There were definitely chunks of the story missing such as the history of many of the vampires and the ending woefully cropped, the effects sometimes juvenile.  Both teens and moms preferred the book, though my daughter is ready to see it again.  I felt the book was extremely wordy in the middle–it needed a bit more editing–and the film also bogged down a bit at points, but it was enjoyable and tense escapsim. 

As for which file was better, I am certain that my 8th grader would have a completely different answer than my 5th grader. I shall remain the mum mom.  Maybe they care to chime in below.  C

 

Obama Idolatry

How can Barack Obama possibly live up to the hype about him in the media since the election?  And how can Michelle?  They have suddenly been turned by media into ideal idols, mixing amongst the people but every touch will be gold–for the people, for the economy, for the war, for the world, for the fashion designers and fashionistas.  And everyone already clamoring for their touch.

In the days immediately after the election, I didn’t want to read the Chicago Tribune in the morning or watch the evening news, everything was so saturated with even the mundane being hyped as news. What type of puppy they should get and how many times can they analyze it?  My two cents is that I think that whatever breed they buy is sure to sell thousands of future dogs, so I hope they visit the pound or a rescue group of a particular breed to find their new addition.  Shouldn’t every child get a new puppy?  And the oval office?

I was extremely sick of the interviews with many African Americans asking what it meant to them to have Obama elected, even 6-7-8 year olds.  But, then we watched the excellent Denzel Washington film The Great Debaters, and I realized why the reporters were asking all those questions.  Though women have fought hard for their rights in the US, it has been nothing compared to the blacks–expecially the southern blacks–as they have fought for their rights and equality through years of mindless bigotry and ignorance. 

I encourage all families to watch The Great Debaters or Mississippi Burning (neither for younger than teens) or Roots or other movies about the history of African Americans to remember the lynchings and wrongness and evils that happened–and still happens–in this country.  And now I listen differently, when I hear those interviews on TV.

Our country is ready to pounce on change, and I hope that Obama is the man to be the last one standing in the tangled game of Twister.  Or is it like playing Twister blind folded?  As we watch his steps, we should remember the shadows behind him, hidden from view, of our history and his people and our people and hope that he does not get too tripped up before victory. C