Every movie a children’s movie?

My sister reminded me this week that Grease was the first movie she’d seen without an adult,  My mom dropped my brother, sister, and me off at the theater.  In June of 1978 that meant I was not quite eleven and she was a few months from turning seven.

Which led her to exclaim, “Who let’s a six year old watch that?” and reminisce about my mother’s look of shock when her tiny daughter danced and sang along to Greased Lightening.

Then I listed several more entirely inappropriate movies which I remember watching as a very young child.  Either my mother did not think about it at all, or she assumed that if the actors were clothed, we were clueless.

Even a naive child could not remain entirely clueless watching Natalie Wood steal her mom’s skeevy boyfriend in This Property is Condemned, and, unlike my sister, I knew full well that Gigi was being trained for prostitution.

Not that this is surprising.  I’ve told my husband for years that I never saw family tv as a child.  My mom only watched cop shows, variety shows, and MASH when I was little.  Quincy, Rockford Files, Starsky and Hutch, Carol Burnett, Sonny and Cher, those I remember.  The Waltons?  Never.

Not that it seems to have harmed either of us, but my sister and I both exercised more caution with our own children.  I wonder if her girls have even seen Gigi?

 

Three Minute Road Trip

 

My road trip looked nothing like this, but you really would not want to see a time lapse of Route 70 from Denver to DC.  The first half of it is pretty much nothing, followed by billboards and XXX Truck stops.  The second half is Billboards with Antique Villages rather than XXX establishments, which I find an improvement.

Also, many places claim to have the best pie.  They all lie.  Good pie is harder to find than one would think.

We drive Rte 70 because it is fast, not because it is scenic.

This year is the centennial of the first road across the USA, the Lincoln Highway, so we are thinking of driving it home.  I’m actually excited about it.  It will take longer, but I am hoping for good pie.

What can I say?  I’m an optimist.

 

Peaches, the taste of summer

Peaches are my summer food obsession.  While I haven’t eaten millions of them this summer, I’ve certainly eaten dozens since they first appeared at my local market.

It’s not that I don’t love all the summer berries, but I can buy them year round.  Peaches are just for summer, so I must eat as many as I can before they are gone.

I eat them plain.  I eat them in my morning yogurt (peaches and blueberries are perfect in plain Greek yogurt).  I eat them as dessert with ginger snaps crumbled on top.  I eat them in pie and cobbler and crisp, although I think cooking them entirely unnecessary.  I put them in smoothies if they get over-ripe and mushy, but that rarely happens.  Mostly, I eat them standing over the sink, so the juice doesn’t drip on my shirt or the floor.

What is your favorite summer fruit?  Or vegetable, if you’re like that.

Word of the Day: Sorry.

An apology is a powerful thing.  I wish it weren’t true, but my ability, or maybe it is my willingness, to forgive the smallest and the biggest things often depend on that little phrase.

I’m sorry.

After twenty three years of marriage, you would think that either my husband would have learned this or I would have gotten over it, but, no.  I keep wanting apologies, and he keeps giving me excuses.

An excuse is not an apology.An excuse is not an apology.

They are pretty much the exact opposite.

Whereas an apology diffuses the hurt I feel, excuses incite it.

An apology says I care about your feelings; an excuse says I only care about my own.

As I said, often, it is the most trivial things.

Yesterday evening, I came home at 5:30 to make dinner and discovered my husband and daughter had just finished eating.  We haven’t eaten before 6:30 all week, so I was surprised.

Since what they had eaten included some of the ingredients for the dinner I’d planned, I was also annoyed.  I asked why they’d eaten without us.  (My son had been with me.)

Now, this was stupid.  Upon reflection, I actually knew why my husband ate dinner so early.  He’d skipped lunch and was hungry.

He just couldn’t say that, though.  Nor could he say, “I’m sorry.”

No, he had to give me variety of excuses, like

  • I didn’t know how long you would be.  (Text me to ask?)
  • For all I knew you might be eating out.  (He knows I never do this.)
  • I thought I was doing you a favor.

I went from mildly annoyed to feeling truly hurt because his excuses all put the blame on me – which is what excuses usually do.

The pathetic thing is, in that way, they work.  I go from thinking, “That was rude,” to, “What is wrong with me that I keep expecting him to apologize when the past two decades have proven that he won’t?  How stupid am I?”

A triviality which could have ended with an apology and a kiss thus sends me into a little whirlpool of self accusation and doubt, because, really, how inane can I be?  Why do I keep wanting apologies?  It really isn’t that big of deal.  I should be able to forgive without signs of remorse or regret, shouldn’t I?

I think I should, and I beat myself up over this character flaw for a good part of the evening.

And I think that is ridiculous of me, too, so I chastise myself for that as well.

-sigh-

I owe myself an apology.  I’m way too hard on me.

I’m sorry.

(I also apologize for the song, which I do not like.  There really aren’t a lot of songs with the words “I’m sorry” in them.)

Let’s Discuss Doctor Who

While we’re waiting for the 50th anniversary special, let’s discuss the Doctor.  If you watch (and you should at least give it a try)…

1.  Who has been your favorite Doctor?
2.  Favorite companion?
3.  Did you care about the mystery of Clara?
4.  Did you watch old Who, or did you start recently?
5. What would you like in the next regeneration?
6. Do you want Jenny, Vastra, and Strax to get a spin-off?

1 & 2.  David Tennant and Catherine Tate were my favorites.  After Rose and Martha, I enjoyed the complete lack of romantic interest they had in each other and the depth of their friendship.  I loved Wilf, too.

3.  I did not care a whit about who Clara was. Granted, it wasn’t easy to predict like the mystery of who River Song was, but at least I cared about River.  I was disappointed when I heard that Clara would still be around next season; I was hoping for a clean slate.

4.  I never watched Doctor Who before Eccleston (whom I liked), but have since gone back to watch some of them.

5.  I hope the next Doctor is not so terribly young.  A little maturity adds depth.

6.  Torchwood was too dark for my tastes, and I found Jack much less appealing in his own show, so I’m almost afraid of a spin-off.  However, Strax, Jenny, and Vastra are fun, and I’d like to see more of them.  Maybe a few specials, but not a series.

Something worth watching: Girl Rising on CNN tonight

I hope you’re all having a good day, celebrating the dads you love, letting them know how important they are.

Because they are.  For most of us, parenting is the most important thing we’ll ever do.  It is how we will have the greatest impact on the future, both for our own children and for the world.

In light of that, there is something worth watching on tv tonight:  Girl Rising.  CNN will be airing it at 9pm EST.

There are some excellent fathers featured in it.  Moms, too.  Parents who are doing everything they can to ensure a better future for their daughters.

We saw it in March, with a small group of girls, and I wrote about it here.  I stated then that I’d have been comfortable taking girls as young as ten, but I’ve since spoken with a few people who felt ten is too young.  Use your own judgment, of course.  You might not want to discuss these issues yet, but I assure you there is nothing graphic in their presentation.

One more time, here is the preview.

If you watch it, I’d love to hear what you thought.

If Ever I Would Leave You

Short version:

I’m rather crazy about my husband, and I do not like when he has to travel for work.

The End.

Longer version:  There is no longer version.  I just miss him.

Question:  Is there a best season for being apart?

I think I would say winter, because the days are short and go by faster.

What do you think?

Summertime

Denver Chalk Art FestivalHas summer begun for you?

Ours began last weekend.  The weather has been gorgeous.  My daughter is out of school.  My son who lives back east is here for the summer.

Chalk Artist at WorkYesterday we went to the first street festival of the summer, the Chalk Art Festival.

I love seeing the artists at work.  I find them as interesting as their art.

Unfortunately, my camera’s battery died after snapping a few photos.

Are you a fan of local street fairs?  Carnivals?

Denver Chalk Art Festival

Happy? Memorial Day

For most of us, Memorial Day is the launch of summer. Our neighborhood pools open. Picnics and bbq’s abound. Maybe we’ll even shop the big sales.

For Memorial Day, I wish you peace.For most of us, the meaning of Memorial Day is so far from our minds that we don’t bat an eye when someone wishes us a “Happy Memorial Day.”

Memorial Day isn’t happy.  It needn’t be morbidly depressing, but happy?  That doesn’t quite capture it.

I’m grateful for the sacrifices made by members of our military, but happy?  No, I’m not happy.

Often, I think of their loved ones as those who made the ultimate sacrifice.  They live with their loss every day, those husbands, wives, sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, friends, siblings, lovers.

I imagine it is even harder on the day that has been set aside for remembrance, to see that so many of us do not care to remember at all.

So, what do we say?  I’m choosing peace.

I wish you peace this Memorial Day weekend, and I pray for the safety of those who serve the cause of liberty.

What if they don’t like me?

You’ve probably seen this.  It was a social experiment done six years ago, to see if anyone would stop to listen to Joshua Bell play the violin during their morning commute.

I see it pop up every so often on Facebook, and when it appeared in my feed again this week, I looked up the old article in the Washington Post.

In it, you can read about the reactions (or lack of reactions) of various passers-by, but what struck me today were Bell’s comments:

“At a music hall, I’ll get upset if someone coughs or if someone’s cellphone goes off. But here, my expectations quickly diminished. I started to appreciate any acknowledgment, even a slight glance up. I was oddly grateful when someone threw in a dollar instead of change.” This is from a man whose talents can command $1,000 a minute.

Before he began, Bell hadn’t known what to expect. What he does know is that, for some reason, he was nervous.

“It wasn’t exactly stage fright, but there were butterflies,” he says. “I was stressing a little.”

Bell has played, literally, before crowned heads of Europe. Why the anxiety at the Washington Metro?

“When you play for ticket-holders,” Bell explains, “you are already validated. I have no sense that I need to be accepted. I’m already accepted. Here, there was this thought: What if they don’t like me? What if they resent my presence . . .”

If not universal, it’s certainly a common fear, isn’t it?  The first day of school, the new job, every time we stretch ourselves wondering if we’ll be accepted or rejected, even when we are sure of our abilities.  Like Bell, we wonder, “What if they don’t like me?”

Because, sometimes, they don’t.  We could be Joshua Bell, one of the world’s finest violinists, playing a Stradivarius, and still be ignored, a mere irritant to people with other things on their mind, other agendas, and no interest in us.

“Not everybody is going to like you,” I used to tell my children, “And that’s okay.  You won’t like everyone you meet, either.”

Easier to say than accept.