The Hundred-Foot Journey

I've found it.
The PERFECT contemporary movie that is NOT produced by BBC.
(At least, I don't think it is...hmmm...)

It's PG, takes place in India and France, is about cooking, finding one's place in the world, applauding both ambition AND contentment. There are small town politics, family politics (don't pretend you don't know what that is, now), a hint at national politics, a whole lot of heart in all of that.
 Did I mention it's mostly set in France and involves cooking?
With Helen Mirrin, of all actresses!

I very rarely love a movie to the core...especially those made after 1965....but I bought this one.
Watch it!
Preferably with an omelette and glass of wine, fresh fruit and cheese close at hand.
If you cannot find it or don't want to purchase it, come to my house and watch it with me!
(Wine and omelette complimentary, of course.)

Confession #422

I fell out of love with Downton Abby when Matthew died.
*whew. there, I said it*

I was Downton before Downton was cool, Just as the rest of the world started really plugging in and watching Season 1 and 2 to catch up, really.  And I still watch it....I just don't LOVE it.

BUT...
I'm devouring this show entitled "Call the Midwife".
It's set in the east end of London (very poor neighborhoods) in the 1950s and is based on a real, true midwife's memoirs. The midwives live with nuns at a place called Nonantes House and work side by side with them to care for mothers, babies and community.  It's just a dear show, saved from being schmaltzy by having realistically flawed characters and a sense of nostalgia, not sugar. The producers have taken great pains to ensure historical and cultural accuracy, right down to the way the nuns knit....continental as opposed to the odd American style.  The music is 1950s wonderful, interspersed with holy vespers sung by the nuns.
I cry with happiness and anguish, nearly every episode...

Here's the cast from Season 1




My guilty show is "Selfridges" which is about an insanely charismatic, marketing genius who started the first department store in London around the turn of the century. (Yes. They're BOTH set in London.  It's BBC!) He's rather a philanderer but has a fair, decent heart so I forgive him as I'm bawling him out while I watch.  This one is about to go the way of Downton Abby, I'm afraid, so it may only be one of my favorites for one more season...
Oh! It's based on a real person, too!  I watched a documentary on Harry Selfridge and the t.v. show seems to be taking pains to stay true to his story.  (Really, he was such a character that they didn't really HAVE to make anything up.)

Sometimes I get all lost in the fashion and setting details of both shows, missing big chunks of the plot in trying to figure out what china pattern they're using or taking notes in my head on the cut of a gown. (You know. Because I'm very likely to sew my own walking suit...*sarcastic sigh*)

AND....
(yes...there's MORE)
in January, I'll be starting the Australian show "Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries".
It should be deliciously wicked and NOT set in London. (Melbourne, I think.)

Now you know.

Upstairs/Downstairs

Confession #451:
I haven't watched a single episode of Downton Abbey, Season 4.
(I'm sorry Alice! But you see, the NFL playoff games occur at the same time and I don't have the emotional energy to watch all of it.)

I HAVE been secretly working my way through Downton Abbey's "grandmother" series, Upstairs/Downstairs.  I call it the "grandmother" because Downton Abbey is a descendant of this show. In fact, the first season was astonishingly similar in plots and characters.

I didn't mean to get all involved in the Bellamy affairs!  I was in Bigfork for a week earlier in January, in a weakened state from travel and then a medical procedure, and agreed to try the first couple episodes of Season One.  By the time I left, I was hopelessly hooked.  It doesn't really make sense, either, because it's not a particularly riveting, action-packed show.  The characters are interesting, but not "J.R. Ewing"-interesting, if you know what I mean.  It's just...sort of like cheap chocolates; you can't really figure out why you keep going back to the box, because they aren't fabulous, but you just can't leave them alone!

Upstairs/Downstairs is set in a wealthy household in London at the turn of the century (1900's) and just like Downton, the viewer is seeing the drama of the prosperous family as well as the servants, often intertwined. At first glance, it seems as though all they do is drink tea and/or cocktails, and chat about society. But I'm on Season Three  Five, right now, and just went through a shocking episode that involved a former servant who ended up with a butcher knife and...
Well.
I can't tell you more.

The funny thing about BBC shows is that if you watch one episode, you're fine.
If you watch TWO episodes in a row, you'll answer the phone "Hullo? Oh, not a bit, old chap! I was preparing to have a cup of tea...would you care to join me, say, around 3? Veddy good!"
If you watch THREE episodes in one day...which you can only really do if you're bed bound and out of John Grisham novels...you'll be convinced you need to get a ladies maid (or valet, if you're a gentleman), and that celebrating Armistice Day this year wouldn't be a bad idea.
After tea, of course.

Batching it...

Extreme luxury, for me, is when the Farmer and kids are gone (once in a blue moon) for lunch and I can prepare whatever my heart desires.  I've never understood women who look around, find themselves alone and pour a bowl of Yucky Charms cereal.  "I don't have to cook!", they say defensively.  No, you don't HAVE to cook, but you MAY cook...whatever in the world you've been longing for.

You see, as a wife and mom, I plan meals trying to suit the tastes of my family (within reason), our activities (lots of physical work means sturdier fare), even the weather.  I attempt to get the food groups in, make sure the meals are decently healthy, and that there are no onions that can be seen with the naked seven year old eye.  It's a big job, three times a day, 350 days a year at least.

When I'm alone, I don't HAVE to cook, either.
But it's on those days that I joyfully take stock of what my palate has been longing for that no one else would enjoy or be satisfied with and prepare myself the good stuff.

Today, it was a big ugly salad.
(Don't stop reading here! When I say, "salad", I'm talking about a bowl of food that has lettuce as a garnish, really.  Stick with me!)

I'm alone, so I don't have to hurry to get it on the table in time.  I don't have to get it to the table at all, truth be told.

I begin by setting the mood...
Pour a small glass of Chardonnay. (Horrors! It's only 11:00 a.m.!)
Find a Sophia Loren movie about treasure hunting in the Greek islands...yep, that will do.  It was almost a French subtitled movie, but I like Sophia's voice.  The whole point of it is to have something on that no one else in the family would tolerate any other time.  It's my meal!  It's my soundtrack!

Already it's fun, isn't it?

I take out a huge bowl for the salad.  I won't make the salad to fit the bowl, but I want room to toss and swirl and shake up the whole mess.  Salads that j-u-s-t barely fit in the bowl are very annoying to me and I don't need that sort of stress when I'm making this soul meal.

I make a little pillow of lettuce and cabbage in the bottom of the bowl to welcome the rest of the ingredients. Cabbage has a more satisfying crunch and stronger flavor which makes the salad seem a little more substantial.
Also, it will hold up under all the other good stuff, where lettuce alone sort of gives up and wilts a bit.

Cold things to add on top of the greens?  Today I had green onions, orange bell pepper, poblano pepper, and pinapple.  I've been eating carrots and tomatoes out of the garden, so they're sort of...ordinary.  The orange bell pepper looks pretty against the other green-y things and makes me smile.

Here's where it gets sort of wild.
Here's where my heart does a happy little flitter...these next steps are what make this salad "ugly", but in a magnificent way.

I get out a big non-stick frying pan and plop a good dollop of real butter in the bottom.  While that's melting, I add some chopped garlic (from a jar in the fridge) and a liberal amount of powdered chipotle chili pepper.  And shake a little salt, for good measure. From the freezer, I pull out the hoarded shrimp that's already been deveined and cooked...and I toss about 6 or 7 in with the spicy butter.  They'll saute and soak up the flavor while I have a couple sips of wine and move on to the next step.

(Sophia is working two different treasure hunters against each other to her advantage and I do believe she's making nearly as much progress as I am with my salad...)

I take out another, smaller non-stick frying pan and in this one goes the bacon bits (I had to use the Kirkland ones, but usually have a little pre-cooked bacon in the fridge) and the French's french fried onions.  I turn the burner up and toast the little morsels of goodness until both are nice and crispy and smell heavenly.  These I dump on the greens, then use the same pan to toast up the sliced almonds.

While the almonds are toasting, I take the sweet little shrimps out of their butter bath and add them to the ever-growing "salad".  (If you make this, you'll want to save the spicy shrimp butter to dip your sourdough toast in. It's amazing...)

I scatter the almonds over the whole thing, then get my vinaigrette out of the fridge to finish this project.  First thing in the week, I made a simple dressing of olive oil, vinegar and sweet red chili sauce (the kind you find in the Chinese cooking aisle at the grocery store). Shake it up, pour it over all, then take my fork and stir the salad up until it's all messy and pretty.

Then, I pour a leetle more Chardonnay in my wine glass, take my meal to the living room, sit cross legged on the couch, watch Sofia dive for a dolphin statue and eat my salad.  (She obviously eats salads with more lettuce and less bacon...poor thing.)

The whole thing takes about an hour...a really wonderful hour, when I think about it.  I'm too full for the spicy butter and toast, so I save that for later.  It will be a happy reminder of the meal I made for myself.

*Note, here, on salads.  When I make a salad for myself, I usually end up with a funny balance of sweet, spicy, crunchy, salty, both clean and complex flavors.  I realize though, that sometimes one of the most comforting things is simplicity.  If your life has felt out of control and you're tired of complex things, one of the nicest salads would be a wedge of iceburg lettuce and a favorite creamy dressing poured over the top.  That would be happy soul-food, too.

*I DIDN'T take a picture because if you want to make this sort of salad for yourself, you shouldn't be trying to make it look like mine.  Perhaps you'd put the crunchy fried onions and bacon on the bottom.  Maybe you'd grill chicken instead of using shrimp.  You might drink milk instead of white wine.  Whatever rattles your can...

Now that Sophia has landed the treasure, her man and my wine glass is empty, I need to go clean up the kitchen so it looks like I didn't eat anything but a p.b. and j. for lunch when the family gets back....

New Tunes

Last week,T.O.A.S.T.B.A.  asked what song I would likely next load on my MP3.  I never know what's going to strike me or when, and honestly had no idea!

Well, instead of more Cuban music, which I'm really liking right now, I ended up downloading Bruce Springsteen's "Glory Days", followed by Harry Chapin singing "Flowers Are Red", and finished it off with Lost Immigrants' "Waiting on Judgement Day".  So, now you know. (Because you were dying to know, I'm sure...)

The music I really want to tell you about, though, comes from a documentary about some older, traditional Cuban singers that was produced in 1997, released in 1999.  The documentary, itself, is fascinating because each musician is interviewed in his or her space in Cuba, with a performance in New York's Carnegie Hall.  All the musicians were 65 or older....in fact, I'd say most of them are in their mid to late 70s, really.  Most don't speak English, so much of the interview is done with captions, and all the songs have captions so you know what they're singing about. Angus and I got up early one morning, about a month ago and watched the movie, which tells you how good it was; a five year old watching a documentary in another language about old people.

That afternoon, I downloaded their album, because the music wouldn't leave my head...only, in my head, it wasn't as good, you know?  I play it when I'm preparing lunch or supper...it just feels right, then.  Sometimes I have to stop, get my red heels and dance properly while chopping onions.  I think they'd be wonderful on an outdoor sound system; there'd be a barbecue and a dance would break out!  Maggie and Angus like them, too.  Maggie usually gets our her paints when I put the Buena Vista album on and gets busy. The song Chan Chan is the first one I heard and still my favorite!  (The actual words to it are a little risque, but it's fun to watch the ensemble perform.)

If you'd like to read more of their story, go to the Buena Vista Social Club website and check them out!  Have your red heels handy...

Get Down(ton) With It

True Confession #394: I watch Masterpiece Theatre...for fun!

I know.  That doesn't really seem like much of a shocking revelation, but the fact that I watch anything at ALL besides football and the occasional 10 minutes of the evening news is sort of a big deal.  I didn't realize exactly how "out of it" I was, where popular television is concerned, until I was at Bookclub last month.  The topic turned to what everyone was TiVo-ing, and I found myself with nothing to add. NOTHING.  I didn't know the sitcoms, I didn't know the dramas, I didn't know any of the actors, I didn't know what night anything came on and it certainly never crossed my mind to tape or TiVo anything in the past 10 years.  Maybe longer. 

THEN it occurred to me that I DO watch Masterpiece Theatre, when there isn't football on, and Downton Abbey is nearly to start!  The thrills!

Too bad no one else in my world watches it...
Except Alice.

My friend Alice is into British culture like I'm into French.
I look at pictures of her and smell tea and scones.  She can wear delicate little cardigans, rock the Wellies, carry an umbrella with nonchalance, reads Wilkie Collins, is neat and trim, and I always sort of expect her writing to start out, "I say, miss; it's a fine day for a stroll, is it not? Shall we market together, thusly?"  (I'm teasing her a little, here, but you get the idea.)

Alice is OBSESSED with Downton Abbey.  She follows it like I follow the 49ers, sending me shocking little preview videos, profiles of the actors, reviews of the new series.  And, I'm embarrassed to say, I have been completely sucked in and am waiting, waiting, waiting for the first episode of Season 2! 

Last year, the first season, found me wearing pajamas and a sweatshirt in my living room chair which had been drug over to the computer desk (because I have to watch it with headphones so as not to disturb anyone else who might be trying to watch Survivor Man or Top Shots), with a glass of wine, gasping at the twists and turns of the plot, coaching Mr. Bates and Anna to give in to their OBVIOUS attraction and just go ahead and clasp hands or something tender!  Lady Mary is, at first appearance, cold and manipulative, but really I believe she's under a lot of pressure and misunderstood. (Alice and I disagree on this point, but I hold firm.)  The lady's maid only knows half the story (while I, of course, know the WHOLE story and am trying to convey it, in vain, through the computer screen and hand gestures) and does something unforgiveable to....well, I've said too much already.  And then World War I starts and we're left for 11 months to ponder the fate of dear Matthew, miss the Countess of Grantham with her sharp, dry wit, and agonize over the question of whether Mr. Bates and Anna will succumb to what we all know is life together, happily ever after. *sigh*  It's all so wonderfully, awfully well-done and classy, so addictive....

Downton Abbey, Season 2, is going to begin airing this Sunday on PBS.  You can watch episodes of Season 1 on the computer; they stream it through the Masterpiece website.  If you want to catch up, then join us in our funny little British world every week for about 7 Sundays/Mondays, please don't wait a minute to start!  Alice watches on Sunday evenings, I watch on Mondays (due to football post-season still being on, and let's not forget the Super Bowl where you'll all find out that the 49ers are really and truly THE best team in the NFL...not the GB Packers, as assumed by 98% of the world right now, save 1 delusional Broncos nut who signs his correspondence TOASTBA).  We cluck and fuss and discuss on the Tuesday following.  (I love that Alice has to wait a whole day, sitting on her hands to keep from typing and spilling the beans!)

You see?
It really IS quite the confession!

Horse Crazy

What is it about horses that can make ordinarily rational, conservative people just a little nuts?  Not a bad sort of crazy, really; just a little on the "what the heck?" side of it.

Little girls, for some reason, are always nuts for horses.  I don't think I've ever encountered one that hasn't at one point gone through a little period of horse love.  And not just country girls, although they have it bad.  My daughter is no exception.  This year, for her birthday, she wanted a Breyer horse and a diary that locked. (More on the diary, later...) She's given up asking for a REAL horse for every birthday, Christmas, Groundhog's Day, etc. and resorted to the model horses. 

In the box, there was a nifty "magazine"/catalog about Breyer horse models, designed to encourage the collecting and appreciation of the figurines.  Things like which models are most desirable to own, books and model sets, and how to take your model horse to a horse show and win.

I had to come to a screeching halt when I read about the model horse shows. 
This is where the "crazy" part comes in.
Let me share an excerpt from the magazine:

Did you know that you can compete in judged competitions with your model horses, in many of the same ways people compete with their real horse?
Model horses compete in "halter" and "performance" divisions.  The halter classes have a separate division and classes for each horse breed (and sometimes color classes).
How do you judge 50 Breyer Arabians, when several copies of the same model/color may be in the class? It comes back to those subtle differences in painting and finish quality. A judge may note that one bay Arabian is darker and more richly shaded than the others and give that the edge.

I mean to tell you, folks; this is SERIOUS.
It gets better.
More from the magazine:

Performance showing (and I wondered how this was possible) is possibly the most interesting, fun and interactive part of model horse showing.  This is where you can put all those wonderful Breyer tack and accessory items you've been gathering to the test!
Shows are typically divided into English, Western and Other performance; each division has classes in each type of event you'd see at a horse show.  You bring your model to the table when the class is called, with well-fitted tack and appropriate obstacles or props.  The goal is to portray in miniature a "stop-motion" phase of the event.  The judge will grade the class on accuracy, tack fit, proper placement/action and more.

I'm my father's daughter and I didn't know whether to be horrified or completely amused.  Perhaps horrifically amused. Apparently, this is a big, honking deal across the U.S.!  Now, I'm as competitive as the next girl about...well, everything...but I'm not sure I could show up at one of these shows with my little plastic horse and seriously get worked up about winning my division and class.  And you KNOW there are adults there that are entering, trying to kick some little 10 year old's plastic horse around the block with their obviously superior, darker, more richly shaded plastic horse. 

Sheesh.

And then, last night, I watched the movie "Secretariat". 
What a GREAT movie!  

If you have not seen it, I urge you to hustle on over to Netflix or your library and find a copy. I want to own it, and I only say that about maybe 10 movies in as many years. I don't know if it was the housewife, believing in a dream that came to fruition after blood, sweat and tears, or if it was the horse that really ran the Belmont in a time that has still been unmatched, or what, but it was very, very good.  You don't even have to be crazy about horses to appreciate the story!

True Confession #317

It's been awhile, hasn't it? 

Yeah, well....some of you are still reeling from the whole People magazine love.  I didn't think it would be good to spring another confession on you right away. 

But it's time. 

This will make my brother and a couple other friends roll their eyes and snort in their beer.  Ah, well...

Here it is:



I love sports movies. 
Love 'em!
Any sport....football, basketball, soccer, figure skating, rodeo, hockey....you name it, I like it.  EVEN (and this is the most painful part of the confession...) NASCAR movies.  Although, and I have to say it, I don't quite understand how rodeo is NOT classified as a sport by ESPN, but NASCAR is.  AND...this still baffles me...poker!  I digress...

The second half of the true confession...and this is where the rolling of the eyes will commence....is that I cry in nearly every one.  Yes.  Small town-local-kid-does-good movies can make me sob.  I cried during The Replacements, for heaven's sake.  And Miracle.  And Karate Kid. And that silly Ice Castles movie. Hoosiers takes me completely out....every time. 

Tonight, I made my family watch The Rookie. 
They were just excited that I was going to sit and watch a movie with them, so they agreed to anything. 
Turns out, I'm the only sports movie fan in the house. 
It moves too slow, there's too much to figure out, they don't really understand baseball. 

It had Dennis Quaid in it! I don't mind telling you,  I'd watch a remake of Captain Kangaroo with Dennis Quaid in it.  He wouldn't even have to say anything, just stand there and look handsome.  And grin.  And wink his blue eyes.....*sigh*

What was I talking about?

Oh, yeah...The Rookie. 

It had all the ingredients for a good sports movie.  Young kid, big dream; misunderstood, cold father; small town; cute little kid; smart mouthed teens; impossible, amazing, too-good-to-be-true winning season after two (or 10) seasons where only one game was won each year.....
AND it was rated G.

It took place in West Texas...Big Lake....and I swear they cast my Aunt Bert as the wife of Jimmy Morris.  The whole movie, I was stunned how much that woman resembled Bert! 

The thing that really made me emotional was that the coach who came from a small town and went big was about my age, now, and he never stopped liking baseball.  He never stopped pitching, even if it was at night, against a fence, with his son asleep in the back seat.  He did all the right things, like getting a real job and taking good care of his family, but he never lost the passion or spark for baseball.  And he worked at passing it on to the next generation. (I know.  Just like all sports movies...)

That, and it was Dennis Quaid.  I mean, my goodness...!
:)

So now you know....sports movies are probably the only kind I'll actually sit down and watch all the way through without stopping to change the laundry around or check my email.  Sports movies and Downton Abbey.  And I'll cry, so if that makes you uncomfortable, you can go check YOUR email while tears run down my face; sappy, happy tears.

Beignets

Have you all seen this movie?
The Princess and The Frog is set in New Orleans and we've watched it about 40 times, conservatively guessing. 
One of the things we like most about it is the beignets. (Pronounced "ben-YAYs")

Man-catchin' beignets!

I really adore beignets, but haven't had them for years.  My kids had no idea what they tasted like, but Maggie was positive that they would be the best things she'd ever consumed and would I please, please, PLEASE make some for them to try?

Oh, very well, then.  Twist my arm....

Here's the recipe I used, from Paula Deen's Food Network site.

French Quarter Beignets

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups lukewarm water
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 envelope active dry yeast
2 eggs, slightly beaten
1 1/4 teaspoons salt
1 cup evaporated milk
7 cups bread flour
1/4 cup shortening
Nonstick spray
Oil, for deep-frying
3 cups confectioners' sugar

Directions

Mix water, sugar, and yeast in a large bowl and let sit for 10 minutes.

In another bowl, beat the eggs, salt and evaporated milk together. Mix egg mixture to the yeast mixture. In a separate bowl, measure out the bread flour. Add 3 cups of the flour to the yeast mixture and stir to combine. Add the shortening and continue to stir while adding the remaining flour. Remove dough from the bowl, place onto a lightly floured surface and knead until smooth. Spray a large bowl with nonstick spray. Put dough into the bowl and cover with plastic wrap or a towel. Let rise in a warm place for at least 2 hours.

Preheat oil in a deep-fryer to 350 degrees F.

Add the confectioners' sugar to a paper or plastic bag and set aside.

Roll the dough out to about 1/4-inch thickness and cut into 1-inch squares.

 Deep-fry, flipping constantly, until they become a golden color.

 After beignets are fried, drain them for a few seconds on paper towels, and then toss them into the bag of confectioners' sugar. Hold bag closed and shake to coat evenly.

Serve hot to anyone who might be hanging around or walking through your kitchen.  Hopefully 30-40 people will, because this recipe makes about 100-150 beignets.  I started cutting them big toward the end, just so I could get done.

I don't think they'll really work as man-catchin', but they snared a couple kids...

Classic Movies for Beginners, Part 1

Homer left a very sweet comment on the purse blog about me looking like Holly Golightly (from Breakfast at Tiffany's), which I considered the highest of compliments.  And it sparked a conversation with my friend Shelly about classic movies.  She said she hadn't seen many and I offered to mentor her...a fun proposition for both of us. 

She asked for a list!
Big mistake, Shelly, very big mistake...

Here's my beginner's list:

• Breakfast at Tiffany's
• How to Marry a Millionare
• Pillow Talk
• An Affair to Remember (This should be at the top of the list, really...)
• Casablanca
• Sabrina (the original, NOT the remake)
• Thoroughly Modern Millie (Just for the sheer fun of it!  A lesser known Julie Andrews movie...)
• Young at Heart (Frank Sinatra/Doris Day...*sigh*)
• Houseboat
• The Quiet Man
•  African Queen
• The Treasure of the Sierra Madre
• The Sons of Katie Elder
• Arsenic and Old Lace
• Gone With The Wind (Although, Scarlett in the BOOK is not the same as Scarlett in this movie!)

What would you add to the list?
Have you seen most of these movies?

Do you remember....

The Man From Snowy River?

Of course you do! 

(And all the guys roll their eyes and all the girls sigh wistfully....)

I found it at a second hand store in Miles City, last week, and was so excited!  I don't think I've seen the movie since it first came out....can it be at least 20 years ago?  

(Little note, here:  I watch MAYBE 3 new movies a year.  Maybe.  I've seen probably only 175 movies in my lifetime, most of them made before 1960. So if I talk about a movie, here, it's rather a big deal.  Most of the time...I've read the book and shunned the movie.  I know.  Purists are lonely people...)

So Sunday night, I plugged 'er into the VCR and Maggie and I watched it. 

Oh, my goodness...it was JUST as good as I'd remembered! Except Jim, the hero, was about 19 years old.  I don't remember him being THAT young.  At all.  The music was as familiar to me as Sunday school songs, because I had worn out a tape of the soundtrack and bought sheet music for Jessica's Theme, playing it, I'm sure, until my mom wanted to weep...way back when it first came out. 

Did you remember that Michael Douglas was in this one?  And played brothers? 

Did you notice that the stud who led the wild horses was a half brother to the expensive colt that the rancher bought?  The stud was the first colt out of the mare and the colt was the last one.  I didn't remember that full circle at all! 

Did you know that the movie was based on a poem, written by A.B. Banjo Paterson?  I don't know if any of you have read the poem, but it's a GREAT one; check it out!  The Man From Snowy River

Maggie told me that every horse was the most beautiful horse she'd ever seen.  There were a lot of horses.  She said it a lot of times.  And when Jim goes bailing off the cliff, I lectured her on how completely stupid that was!  (The child is fearless, I tell you! I never take that for granted...)

If you haven't seen this movie for 20 years, like me, find it QUICK and watch it! 

(And now that I'm older...I think Clancy is cute.  What do you think?)

A Good Cry

This is peculiar to women, I think; needing to have a good cry to clean out their hearts and minds.  When I've mentioned having a good cry to a man...ANY man....they are completely baffled as to how "crying" and "good" go together at all.  Crying is bad! Beer is good! Crying over your beer is NOT good, but it makes for a pretty decent country song.

My Gramps used to tell me about his sisters loving terribly tragic songs. He said they'd beg for a heart wrenching song, then weep as it was being sung! It amused him, but he didn't seem to understand WHY they'd ever want to cry like that. Must be a woman thing.... 

This morning, I had a good cry. 

Have you seen the movie, "Becoming Jane"?

It's a story of impossible love. Two spirited, intelligent, passionate people who are devoted to their families fall in love and struggle with doing the right thing.  I KNOW at the beginning that they will absolutely not be allowed to be together, happily ever after. I KNOW this! Everyone knows this.  And I want them to do the right thing, which is to remain loyal to the many people who depend on and love them.  But there's a part of me that really sort of wishes they could have followed through on the plan to run away and be together. I ache for them, for the price they'd pay on either side of that decision. What really put me over the edge was that Mr. LaFroy never stopped loving Jane. Ever. At the end of the story, they have a chance meeting and he introduces his oldest daughter to her....the daughter he named Jane.

It's just the ticket for producing a good cry.

 Now that I have my heart and head sufficiently purged of all the junk that has been cluttering them up for a couple months, I can start on school board business. If I cry over that, however, it won't be good. And I won't have a beer.

*For the men who read this blog (whether you admit it or not), I'll try not to make it a habit of writing about mushy feelings.  It's football season, you know, and there will be some grid-iron posts forthcoming...
    

Avenue Montaigne

I've been watching a French movie called Avenue Montaigne in 15 minute chunks of time over the last 3 days. It's a PG-13, which is edgy for me, but it got that rating because of some objectionable language. The great thing about watching movies in another language is that you don't know when they are saying those things, AND you don't have to read them in the sub-titles! It's true.

Anyway, the film is about a fresh little wide-eyed girl, Jessica, whose grandmother told her about not being able to afford a life of luxury, but the ability to work in that life. So Jessica goes to Paris, to the upscale Avenue Montaigne, and gets a job as a waitress in a cafe' visited by everyone...actors, stage-hands, truck drivers and musicians; all sorts. She is absolutely guileless, and in a short time has gotten involved in some of her regular customer's lives. An art collector is agonizing over the sale of his collection, but there's more there than meets the eye. A television/stage actress is trying to get out of the box and into the movies, but she keeps flubbing her chances. A famous pianist wants to quit his touring and be part of life with real people.

I'm only about half-way through the movie, but it has been such fun! It's like a virtual post-card from Paris, and occasionally I catch myself just looking at the architecture and fashion around the actors, and forgetting about the plot. And then I have to go back and re-read those sections. I've never thought of it, before now, but perhaps that's why I like foreign films...I can read them!

It's Magic...

Have I ever mentioned how I like old glamour movies? You know, the ones where the money spent on wardrobe for the leading ladies totaled more than what all the actors got paid for the film. Preferrably made in the 1930's and '40's. I don't watch them for the story, really, although sometimes I'm surprised and delighted at the plots. Mostly, I watch them for the fashion, the ambiance and the way people treated each other at that time. Can you spell S-T-Y-L-E and R-E-S-P-E-C-T? What was so wrong with that?

When I got home from MASBO, I found the Doris Day movie Romance on the High Seas in a Netflix envelope buried in the mail. Ah, Doris. AND travel! Perfect. The kids watch these movies with me; Angus, a little annoyed and Maggie, thoroughly enchanted. So, we popped it in after nap time and watched.

Here's the blurb from the back of the envelope, since they are so much better at being concise:

"When suspicious socialite Elvira Kent (Janis Paige) asks nightclub singer Georgia Garrett (Doris Day) to take her place on an expensive cruise to South America so she can stay home and catch her husband cheating, Georgia happily agrees. But neither woman is aware that Elvira's husband is ALSO keeping an eye on his wife. This farce-filled Hollywood musical marked Day's debut on film, a role she landed because Betty Hutton became pregnant and had to back out."

Makes you want to run right out and rent it, now, doesn't it? (Okay, so the Mikes and Texas Ghostrider may pass on this one....) But, girls, this movie has glamour just dripping throughout! And when you are done watching it and take stock of your own closet and surroundings, you may feel a little....frumpy. But it's good clean fun and it's guaranteed to clear any testosterone out of the room, should you need a little space.

I have to send it back, now, and return to my real world single-wide trailer and Texas Tech sweatshirts. But it was a treat to spend the afternoon with Doris in Rio!

Oh, and the reason for the title of this post is that "It's Magic" is the big song from the movie...

Spectacles

You know I'm a big fan of old movies..."How to Marry a Millionaire" is one of my favorites. In that movie, Marilyn Monroe plays a girl who is tragically near-sighted, as well as vain, and carries her glasses around in her purse until she is safely in the powder room. She has NO idea what her date looks like, or how to order off the menu. At one point, she's sitting on the airplane (the wrong flight, of course), explaining her plight to the gentleman next to her. She tells him that guys don't make passes at girls who wear glasses. (I'm pretty sure she never really had that problem...see the picture....but she embodies my insecurities about the implements!)

I've sort of worn glasses since I was about three years old. I say "sort of", because I wore them rather like Marilyn...if my mother was around, I put them on; if I was in a social situation, I'd leave them in my purse. When I got to high school, I got contacts. And they HURT! So I didn't really wear them, either. Most of the time, I just sat at the front of the classroom, which had the unintended effect of getting me good grades. (So I didn't LOOK like the brain, but the teachers assumed I was more interested...)

I finally gave in, last week, and went to see the optometrist for the first time in about 6 years. Braving my insecurities, I slunk in the door, grabbed a People magazine, and prayed for better eyes...you know, miracles COULD happen...maybe....

The good doctor spent a lot of time on my eyes...better in one, better in two...what is the lowest line you can read clearly....little drops that make me look like a ghoul....

I was starting to get a little worried, because there were a lot of "hmmm"'s and "let's try this"'s. Finally he revealed that I'm a truly odd case; I have one far-sighted eye and one near-sighted eye, and my brain has trained itself to adapt the sight at a high rate. My noggin is basically doing the job of lenses. GREAT!!! Except that I still needed lenses, to help at night and with computer fatigue. DRATS!!!

They ushered me down the hall to the Wall O'Frames. Now, before going in, the Farmer gave me a budget. "Keep the frames under $200. Or else."

Have you seen frames for glasses, lately? Better yet, have you seen the bargain frames for glasses, lately? Well, let me tell you, it's enough to keep a girl in the powder room for the rest of the dance...that's all I have to say.

Finally, after 20 minutes of agony, I selected a pair. But on the side, they proudly proclaimed their designers, Juicy Couture. I finally got the courage up to ask the little girl who obviously supervised the area, whether they were, um, appropriate for my age and station in life. She all but patted my elderly, age-spotted hand and told me that the women who designed that line were in their 40's, and I might be able to carry it off.

My next choice was: glass or plastic. (Which is more green? Smaller carbon footprint?) I went with plastic, keeping my budget in mind. Extra super-duper-scratch-lint-smear-and-reflection-protection? When I hesitated, she told me that they had made a lot of advances since the last time I had gotten glasses. (I made a mental note to call Lily and make that appointment for my annual Covering O' The Gray...) Oh, all right; let's get the protection. Transition lenses...no-line bifocals? Well, by this point, I couldn't take anymore veiled references to my aged-ness, so YEAH!, and budget be damned. A girl has to have SOME luxuries...

The Farmer entered the salon, about this time, blinking from his eye-drops, and all but recoiled at me wearing the new frames. "What do you think, honey?", I ask him, expecting the usual answer of : "Yeah. Looks good. Whatever makes you happy, dear.", only to get: "I'll reserve comment until we get to the car...".

WHAT?

"Well," he mutters, "they sort of look like...cat-eye glasses. In a way."

I'm NOT going through that whole process again, so I grit my teeth and think of Marilyn. She looked pretty good in cat-eye glasses. Not that I'm Marilyn. A not-so-gracefully aging sort, maybe.

Fast forward to the next week, and I now have my glasses. And, just like the hair, the women think they are edgy and cute; the men think they are...a little...well....maybe....retro?

Marilyn Monroe sincerely had more going for her, but I can still relate to her role and self-conciousness with the spectacles. This morning, the Farmer said I looked like a sexy geek. Hmmm.

Muddled Monday Meanderings

In no particular order, you are going to have a sampling of some random little things that run through my mind, here and there, that don't deserve a post of their own.

My neice Kamryn calls me Crazy Mary, instead of Auntie Mary. Her sister, Livvie Ann, who is 3, calls me Uncle Mary, instead of Auntie Mary. This summer, we are going to have Crazy Uncle Mary's Sleepover Camp. I'm still working out the plan, but it will include sleeping in tents on the lawn, 3 wading pools, t-shirt painting, face painting, forbidden foods and a movie on the deck. (Wayland will be looking for lodging for those two days, so watch out!)

This is something I already talked to Traci about, but it's still bouncing around in my head...and NO! I wasn't under any anesthesia when I was thinking of it, either. You know Lazarus, Mary and Martha were dear friends of Jesus, right? And how Lazarus died, and Jesus brought him back from the dead. You know, Lazarus was in Heaven, glorious Heaven, with God. Then, WHOOP!,there he was, back on earth with all the earthly pain and fears again. What do you suppose Jesus told him, in explanation? Can you imagine being yanked back? And what poor little Martha must've been thinking about the laundry and bath issues? (This is why all the Bible studies I join seem to either fold or forget to tell me where we are meeting next...)

My family eats cereal and ice cream out of coffee mugs. Very portable, and your hands don't get cold holding the ice cream. I eat soup that way too, but they prefer bowls for that entree.

Do you apologize to plants when you pinch them back or accidentally yank them out, thinking they are weeds? I thought I was maybe the only one, but then I ran across this passage in People With Dirty Hands :

"When I pull up a good plant by mistake," she writes me at summer's end, "I say to myself Mr Rochester's words after his marriage to Jane Eyre is interrupted: 'Jane, if a man had a lamb that was the love of his bosom and he sent it to slaughter, he could not rue his bloody mistake more than I do.' That's if I pull a whole plant. If I cut the wrong flower, sometimes I say, 'Jane, I never meant to hurt you.' If it's only cutting a live bud when I'm deadheading, I just say, 'Jane.' They know what I mean."

And speaking of gardening...you know I was going to get there! I just watched a French movie, Jean de Flourette, and I want to recommend it to anyone who has struggled with a garden, big dreams and neighbors. It made me laugh and cry and shake my head and wish I had a friend to share the movie with and, of course, talk about it! (It's got subtitles, but if you can get past that, I highly recommend it.) And here's something funny: I'm reading the captions, right? Because I don't actually speak French. BUT the kids started squalling and I found myself shushing them! Like it would matter!

There's a music player at the bottom of this blog and it's loaded with all sorts of weird music, naturally. I have it set to where if you want to listen to the songs, you have to hit the play button yourself. This is in deference to those mommies who check blogs while their kids nap. I can just see someone sitting her poor, longsuffering self down with the much anticipated coffee to read Cohagen Chronicles, only to have Ella Fitzgerald's Cow Cow Boogie waking the baby up. I don't want to be responsible for that sort of thing. ALSO, different posts seem to need different background music...soundtrack, if you will. When you read about the kids, please try Mr. Mom or Loretta Lynn's classic, One's On The Way. Cooking posts are good with jazz. Posts about Jordan and Garfield County go nicely with the old country songs...you get the idea. Enjoy.

Okay, I think that's about all the craziness you can handle this morning. Everyone is on the mend. Be sure and read my husband's post about night calving and the skunk...made me laugh! (His blog changed, and the comments don't work...bummer. )

The dog in the picture isn't mine...I just thought it looked like most people do on Mondays...