Crazy gunman aside, we decided to brave the theater for my birthday and take our chances that our children are, indeed, old enough to be home by themselves for a couple of hours without destroying each other or the house.
We didn't get injured at the theater AND we came home to happy kids and an intact house.
The movie? Not my favorite of the trilogy. But, here are some thoughts:
1. Christian Bale is still hot.
But I think Anne Hathaway smoked him on screen in the hotness category (gentlemen from the audience, do I get a HELLS YA on that point?). That chick can wear red lipstick like no body's business.
2. The story line smacked of "current headlines", ala 99% vs. 1%.
An open comment on that: IF I pay money to attend a movie that I KNOW has political undertones* then I won't feel irritated by said political nonsense because I got what I paid to watch.
HOWEVER, if I am coming to a movie featuring a fictional, comic book hero as the lead character, I want the following: serious butt whooping, actors/actresses so fit in their costumes that I feel the urge to leave the theater and exercise until my legs fall off, and an ending where the bad guys fall/good guy wins. I DON'T want a lecture on the political viewpoint of the writers/producer/director woven into the script because that's NOT why I came to the movie.
Just a minor hint for the next wave of superhero movies...and for comic book writers everywhere.
3. Where, oh where, was my trailer for the next superhero movie?
The movie clocked in at almost three hours. It was Titanic in nature. And then we sat in the theater an additional 5 minutes, through every, single credit, waiting for what's next.
I mean, come on Hollywood. You've created Pavlovian dogs of us. We get sneaks at the end of just about every single movie that features a comic book hero. But not at the end of the trilogy? HUH?
This is tantamount to reading an entire book, the author alluding to a future adventure for one of the characters, and realizing the last page is ripped out, the very page where you find out what is going to happen. So.not.right.
Clearly there is a spin off to another movie (spoiler: ROBIN, where art thou?) but I guess they haven't started filming it yet.
Spoiler #2: Will Christian Bale return to mentor Robin? (Please, please, please?!?!?!) Will it hit theaters in 2013? Who else might be starring? What other comic characters will be resurrected? THE SUSPENSE IS KILLING ME.
So, overall, 8 out of 10 pinkies up.
Great action.
Overall great story, less the political junk.
Amazing CGI and action.
Bane is the new Vader.
*or, in this case, overtones.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Anger Management
I'm sorry. If you are here to read about Charlie Sheen's most recent foray into acting out his life in the public eye, this is the wrong place. However, I am going to tell you a FAR SADDER story about how anger can get the best of you, so you might just want to read on.
See, today is my birthday. Forty-six, since you asked. Yes, knocking on 50, when I am going to act out the "I"m FIFTY!" skit made famous by Molly Shannon in some enormously famous place, just to see if I can do it and crack people up.
If you don't believe me, ask my brother's family (or mine, for that matter), what I do when stuck in the longest line in America, waiting to park to go to Disney World. There's no shame here. None. Because everyone was laughing and totally forgot they were in the grip of the world's most annoying situation.
My birthday started with coffee Mike brewed and poured into a cup that Nickels found and convinced him to buy, a Wizard of Oz mug that says "Oh. You are the best friends anybody every had!" with a picture of Dorothy, Scarecrow, Lion, and the Tin Man.
And, if you know my love of that movie, you know that made my heart smile.
The Facebook post wishes were coming strong and so were the texts and phone calls. It was, in a nutshell, the beginning of the perfect day. I was happy, life was good, I felt blessed.
So, in this state of mind, I left for the few errands I had to run. The last landed me at the gas pump at Costco. I had been on the phone with my uncle, catching up on the comings and goings in his world, when I found myself in an intense part of the conversation that I didn't feel I could interrupt.
Being sensitive to the potential nature of sitting and finishing the conversation vs. holding up a line, I checked my rear view mirror. The person behind me was finishing up and someone had just pulled up behind him. I was good to go for a moment.
At least I THOUGHT I was.
The instant the person in the car pulled to the gas pump he started griping at the person attending the pumps. Literally, I could see this guy gesticulating toward my car and yelling. Instead of continuing to be screamed at from 10 feet, the attendant choose to come stand on one side of my car and look in my window.
At this point, I was clearly confused. I wasn't blocking anyone from getting gas. There were open pumps all around me. I wasn't playing loud music. I was simply finishing a conversation. I shrugged my shoulders and gave him a "What's the problem look?" and he walked away.
Once I hung up, I realized that the ranting had not stopped. I exited my car and the yelling at me started.
The beef? I was talking on my cell phone sitting at the pump. Now, mind you, not blocking any one, not getting in any body's way, just sitting there not hurting a fly.
I felt my blood pressure rise through the top of my head. And then he crossed a line: he had the gall to say "YOU ALWAYS sit there and use that phone and don't care about other people."
Oh.no.you.did.unt.
What issued from my mouth next was nothing better than an angry tirade, meant to shut him up with my volume.
It was my birthday and my 70+ uncle had called and I felt bad cutting him off. And, oh yeah, shame on you for judging me. You don't know ANYTHING about me.
And there you have it folks. The point of the lesson. He didn't know a damn thing about me and I didn't know a damn thing about him. And we were standing there yelling at each other in public over a situation that was stupid. And, trust me, other people were looking at us.
When I shamed him, he turned away and started pumping his gas. I don't know about the state of his body, but mine was shaking all over. I was furious.
I take pride in being courteous to people. I especially do my best to go out of my way for my elders and the elderly. I try to be consistently aware of my surroundings and try my hardest to be accommodating, even to people who don't really deserve it. And here I am, being JUDGED FOR BEING RUDE? On my birthday, for crying out loud?
It didn't take five seconds for me to remember the sermon last Sunday was on anger.
It took another second to realize I needed to apologize.
And, thanks to the fact that I was driving the Prius and he was driving a Lexus, I finished pumping my gas well before he did.
And I walked straight over to him, pulled my sunglasses off, looked him straight in the eyes and apologized for being in his way and yelling at him. His response about blew me out of the water: "That's OK. You weren't in my way."*
I realized, as I looked at him, that he had these amazing blue eyes. Really dark pupils surrounded by light blue. He looked like he had borrowed those eyes from an Alaskan Malamute. They were simply beautiful.
I explained it was my birthday and I was on the phone with my uncle who I hadn't spoken to in awhile. He smiled a huge smile and wished me a happy birthday. Dentures have never looked so good to me, all pearly-white and perfect.
And, in that moment, I just felt he needed a hug. Or maybe I needed one. I don't know. But, I bent over and gave him a good hug and said "God Bless You".
I don't know if he even responded because, in that moment, I just felt this huge sense of relief that I had accomplished what was supposed to be done in that space of time. I had learned the lesson on my proverbial knees. Sure, I had sinned. But, I at least had the correct response in fixing the sin on the spot.
Hopefully, next time, the anger won't even come out of me.
If I could return to the scene, I'd spend a few more minutes with that man.
I'd ask him why he had such a negative response to my cell phone.
I'd ask him about his family.
I'd ask him to join me inside to share a piece of pizza for my birthday.
But, I think my shame caused me to move away from the situation too quickly. After all, I had never, in my life, responded so negatively to an elderly person.
In the car, I broke down. I asked God to forgive me and help me overcome my tendency toward anger. I asked him to heal the parts of me that want to explode.
I'm a work in progress. Forty-six years in I still have lessons to learn. And, I expect, forty-six more years from now there will still be hurdles to overcome.
But, for today, I am grateful that I was blessed to be part of that man's day, as strange as that may seem.
Because if I've learned anything in the past few years, it is that out of the most painful situations come the best lessons. And, I learned that I am capable of admitting fault to perfect strangers and extending the hand of friendship to the unlovely.
What a beautiful birthday gift, if I do say so myself.
*In retrospect, I wish I would have asked why he felt the need to yell then. I might have heard a very interesting or sad or inspiring story. Who knows.
See, today is my birthday. Forty-six, since you asked. Yes, knocking on 50, when I am going to act out the "I"m FIFTY!" skit made famous by Molly Shannon in some enormously famous place, just to see if I can do it and crack people up.
If you don't believe me, ask my brother's family (or mine, for that matter), what I do when stuck in the longest line in America, waiting to park to go to Disney World. There's no shame here. None. Because everyone was laughing and totally forgot they were in the grip of the world's most annoying situation.
My birthday started with coffee Mike brewed and poured into a cup that Nickels found and convinced him to buy, a Wizard of Oz mug that says "Oh. You are the best friends anybody every had!" with a picture of Dorothy, Scarecrow, Lion, and the Tin Man.
And, if you know my love of that movie, you know that made my heart smile.
The Facebook post wishes were coming strong and so were the texts and phone calls. It was, in a nutshell, the beginning of the perfect day. I was happy, life was good, I felt blessed.
So, in this state of mind, I left for the few errands I had to run. The last landed me at the gas pump at Costco. I had been on the phone with my uncle, catching up on the comings and goings in his world, when I found myself in an intense part of the conversation that I didn't feel I could interrupt.
Being sensitive to the potential nature of sitting and finishing the conversation vs. holding up a line, I checked my rear view mirror. The person behind me was finishing up and someone had just pulled up behind him. I was good to go for a moment.
At least I THOUGHT I was.
The instant the person in the car pulled to the gas pump he started griping at the person attending the pumps. Literally, I could see this guy gesticulating toward my car and yelling. Instead of continuing to be screamed at from 10 feet, the attendant choose to come stand on one side of my car and look in my window.
At this point, I was clearly confused. I wasn't blocking anyone from getting gas. There were open pumps all around me. I wasn't playing loud music. I was simply finishing a conversation. I shrugged my shoulders and gave him a "What's the problem look?" and he walked away.
Once I hung up, I realized that the ranting had not stopped. I exited my car and the yelling at me started.
The beef? I was talking on my cell phone sitting at the pump. Now, mind you, not blocking any one, not getting in any body's way, just sitting there not hurting a fly.
I felt my blood pressure rise through the top of my head. And then he crossed a line: he had the gall to say "YOU ALWAYS sit there and use that phone and don't care about other people."
Oh.no.you.did.unt.
What issued from my mouth next was nothing better than an angry tirade, meant to shut him up with my volume.
It was my birthday and my 70+ uncle had called and I felt bad cutting him off. And, oh yeah, shame on you for judging me. You don't know ANYTHING about me.
And there you have it folks. The point of the lesson. He didn't know a damn thing about me and I didn't know a damn thing about him. And we were standing there yelling at each other in public over a situation that was stupid. And, trust me, other people were looking at us.
When I shamed him, he turned away and started pumping his gas. I don't know about the state of his body, but mine was shaking all over. I was furious.
I take pride in being courteous to people. I especially do my best to go out of my way for my elders and the elderly. I try to be consistently aware of my surroundings and try my hardest to be accommodating, even to people who don't really deserve it. And here I am, being JUDGED FOR BEING RUDE? On my birthday, for crying out loud?
It didn't take five seconds for me to remember the sermon last Sunday was on anger.
It took another second to realize I needed to apologize.
And, thanks to the fact that I was driving the Prius and he was driving a Lexus, I finished pumping my gas well before he did.
And I walked straight over to him, pulled my sunglasses off, looked him straight in the eyes and apologized for being in his way and yelling at him. His response about blew me out of the water: "That's OK. You weren't in my way."*
I realized, as I looked at him, that he had these amazing blue eyes. Really dark pupils surrounded by light blue. He looked like he had borrowed those eyes from an Alaskan Malamute. They were simply beautiful.
I explained it was my birthday and I was on the phone with my uncle who I hadn't spoken to in awhile. He smiled a huge smile and wished me a happy birthday. Dentures have never looked so good to me, all pearly-white and perfect.
And, in that moment, I just felt he needed a hug. Or maybe I needed one. I don't know. But, I bent over and gave him a good hug and said "God Bless You".
I don't know if he even responded because, in that moment, I just felt this huge sense of relief that I had accomplished what was supposed to be done in that space of time. I had learned the lesson on my proverbial knees. Sure, I had sinned. But, I at least had the correct response in fixing the sin on the spot.
Hopefully, next time, the anger won't even come out of me.
If I could return to the scene, I'd spend a few more minutes with that man.
I'd ask him why he had such a negative response to my cell phone.
I'd ask him about his family.
I'd ask him to join me inside to share a piece of pizza for my birthday.
But, I think my shame caused me to move away from the situation too quickly. After all, I had never, in my life, responded so negatively to an elderly person.
In the car, I broke down. I asked God to forgive me and help me overcome my tendency toward anger. I asked him to heal the parts of me that want to explode.
I'm a work in progress. Forty-six years in I still have lessons to learn. And, I expect, forty-six more years from now there will still be hurdles to overcome.
But, for today, I am grateful that I was blessed to be part of that man's day, as strange as that may seem.
Because if I've learned anything in the past few years, it is that out of the most painful situations come the best lessons. And, I learned that I am capable of admitting fault to perfect strangers and extending the hand of friendship to the unlovely.
What a beautiful birthday gift, if I do say so myself.
*In retrospect, I wish I would have asked why he felt the need to yell then. I might have heard a very interesting or sad or inspiring story. Who knows.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Lost Teeth
With three kids yet to reach their teenage years, someone around here always has a loose tooth or a tooth that is becoming loose or a tooth that is bothering them because they are eating something a) too cold b) too hot c) lukewarm.
Generally, bothersome teeth are responding to a food that they don't particularly care for. They are picky that way, don't you know?
But, yesterday was the tip top day for teeth around here. We had not one but TWO teeth on the verge of falling out. Needless to say, the Tooth Fairy was on HIGH alert.
Now, I ascribe to the theory that kids fall into one of two categories when it comes to loose teeth:
1) "I have a loose tooth. It is bleeding a bit and hurting. But, by God, no one is going to TOUCH this thing."
2) "I have a loose tooth. If I twist and probe with my tongue, maybe I can have that sucker out by bedtime and score some cash!"
Back in the day, both Mike and I fell hard on the side of #2. Our kids, on the other hand, are a split bunch. Sometimes they want Mom to make a "floss lasso" and try to yank that bad boy out. Sometimes they won't let me do much more than observe the tooth with my eyes. But, regardless about how they are feeling about me touching their chompers, they NEVER want Mike to touch their mouths; he has this little issue with taking teeth out when no one has made a request. That has garnered him a bad reputation when it comes to what they all consider "unwarranted teeth extraction".
For most of his life, The Babe has fallen on the cash on the barrel head side of the great tooth debate. But, for the first of his front, top teeth he decided to become a let's wait this out boy. That darn tooth stood slightly sideways, making him look like a hillbilly-in-training, for about two weeks. Anyone who got near it was slapped down. This tooth, he declared, was going to fall out by itself, thank you very much!
Yesterday, though, this became an issue for two reasons:
1. he discovered the Froyo he earned by being diligent with his reading program was really making his front tooth feel funky. And not funky as in "get down, get down, get down, get down, get down tonight, baby". Funky as in "I don't think I can finish my treat because my tooth is sensitive to the cold and that is not only abnormal and unnatural but that might mean Mom would give the rest to one of my brothers and that just ain't happening on my shift".*
2. peer pressure finally got the best of him. When a slightly older friend questioned his logic, The Babe had no choice but to fake a small tug (no more than a baby's breath, I assure you) and that thing popped clean out.
Hooman, on the other hand, has had a molar giving him grief for a few weeks now. Try as he might, that thing wanted to be a permanent resident of his mouth. Finally, last night, he had had enough. It was time to evict that pesky resident once and for all.
Honestly, I think this move was courtesy of this little thing called competition, because as soon as little brother came through the door flashing a smile with a gaping hole in it, it was on. Like Donkey Kong.
But, a few tongue wiggles, a few finger probes and one floss lasso later, he was holding a molar in his hand. Aloud he reminded the Tooth Fairy that she was broke for his first lost molar and only left $1 and that this tooth was worth $5.
I'm not sure WHO he thought he was talking to because I didn't see anyone who resembled a fairy in this house, but it apparently worked because he was five smackers richer this morning.
Mike and I are purposely willing Nickels' teeth to stay in his mouth. We're doing teeth dances at night, after the rest of the house is quietly asleep, strengthening the roots by proxy and magic. See, once he loses the last molar? Time for his orthodontic appointment.
Cha-ching. That's the only sound I hear when I use the word "braces". And, when the word "INVISALIGN" is added to the mix, I contemplate whether retirement is really a reality for our future.
But, for all the fun we are having with teeth around here, we sure are glad we have them. After all, we'd be an ugly bunch with nothing but gums, I can assure you that.
*He finished the whole thing by shifting all the yogurt to one side of his mouth. Smartypants.
Generally, bothersome teeth are responding to a food that they don't particularly care for. They are picky that way, don't you know?
But, yesterday was the tip top day for teeth around here. We had not one but TWO teeth on the verge of falling out. Needless to say, the Tooth Fairy was on HIGH alert.
Now, I ascribe to the theory that kids fall into one of two categories when it comes to loose teeth:
1) "I have a loose tooth. It is bleeding a bit and hurting. But, by God, no one is going to TOUCH this thing."
2) "I have a loose tooth. If I twist and probe with my tongue, maybe I can have that sucker out by bedtime and score some cash!"
Back in the day, both Mike and I fell hard on the side of #2. Our kids, on the other hand, are a split bunch. Sometimes they want Mom to make a "floss lasso" and try to yank that bad boy out. Sometimes they won't let me do much more than observe the tooth with my eyes. But, regardless about how they are feeling about me touching their chompers, they NEVER want Mike to touch their mouths; he has this little issue with taking teeth out when no one has made a request. That has garnered him a bad reputation when it comes to what they all consider "unwarranted teeth extraction".
For most of his life, The Babe has fallen on the cash on the barrel head side of the great tooth debate. But, for the first of his front, top teeth he decided to become a let's wait this out boy. That darn tooth stood slightly sideways, making him look like a hillbilly-in-training, for about two weeks. Anyone who got near it was slapped down. This tooth, he declared, was going to fall out by itself, thank you very much!
Yesterday, though, this became an issue for two reasons:
1. he discovered the Froyo he earned by being diligent with his reading program was really making his front tooth feel funky. And not funky as in "get down, get down, get down, get down, get down tonight, baby". Funky as in "I don't think I can finish my treat because my tooth is sensitive to the cold and that is not only abnormal and unnatural but that might mean Mom would give the rest to one of my brothers and that just ain't happening on my shift".*
2. peer pressure finally got the best of him. When a slightly older friend questioned his logic, The Babe had no choice but to fake a small tug (no more than a baby's breath, I assure you) and that thing popped clean out.
Hooman, on the other hand, has had a molar giving him grief for a few weeks now. Try as he might, that thing wanted to be a permanent resident of his mouth. Finally, last night, he had had enough. It was time to evict that pesky resident once and for all.
Honestly, I think this move was courtesy of this little thing called competition, because as soon as little brother came through the door flashing a smile with a gaping hole in it, it was on. Like Donkey Kong.
But, a few tongue wiggles, a few finger probes and one floss lasso later, he was holding a molar in his hand. Aloud he reminded the Tooth Fairy that she was broke for his first lost molar and only left $1 and that this tooth was worth $5.
I'm not sure WHO he thought he was talking to because I didn't see anyone who resembled a fairy in this house, but it apparently worked because he was five smackers richer this morning.
Mike and I are purposely willing Nickels' teeth to stay in his mouth. We're doing teeth dances at night, after the rest of the house is quietly asleep, strengthening the roots by proxy and magic. See, once he loses the last molar? Time for his orthodontic appointment.
Cha-ching. That's the only sound I hear when I use the word "braces". And, when the word "INVISALIGN" is added to the mix, I contemplate whether retirement is really a reality for our future.
But, for all the fun we are having with teeth around here, we sure are glad we have them. After all, we'd be an ugly bunch with nothing but gums, I can assure you that.
*He finished the whole thing by shifting all the yogurt to one side of his mouth. Smartypants.
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