Not as in Jeez.
As in wife to George, now livin’ it up on the East Side.
In other words, For the Record has a new home.
It’s not perfect, and there’s still a chance that I won’t be able to deal with some of the behind-the-scenes functional differences, which might bring me back here or put the whole blog shebang on hold for a while, but I’m taking the plunge anyway.
If all goes wrong, Luke can just put a new engine in my old Jeep.
See you there!
Sorry for the lack of posting. We went to Oklahoma this weekend. And I’d like to tell you all about it and make a return to posts that are actually focused instead of the Grab Bag Special I’ve been putting up lately, but I can’t do either right now, since Caelyn only slept for 40 minutes this afternoon and I had to pat her for 30 of those 40.
But I can tell you that Season 6 of Gilmore Girls is back at home on my shelf, so we should be talking about our favorite Stars Hollow residents again soon.
And I can promise you that I’ve got a couple non-fluff posts simmering on For the Record’s back burners.
And I can give you a few prequel pics at the end of this post. (Chris’ll do something with these and the others soon; I’m sure. I’ll update when he does.)
And I can assure you that we had a great time with the family, but I love DFW.
And I really love Texas.
Grammi Roo and Caelyn bubble with excitement. (Please forgive me for Caelyn’s hair. It was windy.)
Claire watches the bubbles with a mix of skepticism and awe.
You probably already know, but Chris left on Friday morning for SXSW in Austin. He came back this afternoon. I love being married and spending all day every day with him and Caelyn, and I miss him when he’s gone, but I don’t mind being “home alone.” In fact, I enjoy alone time, even though I’m not so alone any more when Chris isn’t here. Despite my background, I’m not nervous or afraid when he’s gone. I lived in an apartment by myself, after all. And, even when he’s here, if there’s a loud noise in the night, yours truly will probably be investigating it. With that police warning out, I’d rather not be out in the middle of the night letting the dog pee, but I took a really big flashlight with me.
All in all, I’m really excited for Chris to be home, but I had a good time in “The Girls’ Club.” Even so, I can think of a few reasons my husband shouldn’t leave me alone. (None of these apply when he is in town.):
1. I suddenly get the notion that I deserve to eat whatever I want and whatever Chris doesn’t like, even if it’s not good for me. Because I know how much you like details, here’s what I ate:
Friday:
Lean Cuisine Something
Wendy’s Chicken Sandwich (& a few of Caelyn’s fries)
(Small) Slice of Key Lime PieSaturday:
(Low-fat) Biscotti & Coffee
1/2 Chicken Salad Sandwich (on croissant) & Tomato Basil Soup
1/2 Lemon Tart (Caelyn ate the other half.)
1/3 Wolfgang Puck Natural Frozen PizzaSunday:
Biscotti & Coffee
(Low-fat) Baked Potato Soup (with bacon crumbles & light sour cream/cheese)
Taco Bell Nacho Supreme & Crispy TacoMonday:
Biscotti & Coffee
Rest of Baked Potato Soup
(Low-fat) 3 Cheese Ravioli w/ Sweet Tomato Basil Sauce & Salad
The rest of a sleeve (maybe 1/5) of reduced-fat Ritz . . . in bed . . . at 2 a.m.Tuesday:
Biscotti & Coffee
Turkey Sandwich
(I’m making fajitas tonight. And I’m excited about it.)
What’s missing from that menu? Vegetables? I love veggies, but they’re sure not on on there in mass quantity. But don’t worry. I fed ‘em to Caelyn. And I think I deserve some credit for not buying that carrot cake I mentioned in Off the Record, since I love carrot cake and Chris hates it.
2. I drink three cups of coffee in the morning, instead of one. I take it black, so calories aren’t a big deal, but do I really need that much caffeine? My tummy says no. I drink it on a relatively empty stomach, because . . . .
3. I don’t really eat breakfast. Notice the biscotti listed above, as though that’s a suitable breakfast. Again, don’t worry. Caelyn had Cheerios with strawberries and bananas every day.
4. I overestimate my ability to be productive. This weekend’s project list?
1. Pull out the clothes that don’t fit Caelyn (to give to Claire)
2. Mark and bag said clothes
3. Reorganize Caelyn’s closet
5. Buy swimsuit
6. Pull out the toys that are too young for Caelyn (to give to Claire)
7. Reorganize laundry room
8. Reorganize kitchen
9. Clean out magazine bin
10. Figure out how to reorganize books so we don’t look like crazy old professors and Caelyn can’t tear them up
11. Rip old CDs to iMac, find album artwork for the ones not on iTunes
12. Clean entire apartment
13. Wash all the rugs
14. Wash all the bedding Chris used when he had the flu
Okay. So I did all of those things, except number 8. (That’s a big project!) But I didn’t do them in one sitting, which means I made a huge mess. I also didn’t finish 11 and I’m afraid I never will. I know; how in the world do I still have CDs that aren’t ripped? Aren’t I down with the times? Here’s the thing:
I have a lot of CDs that Chris doesn’t like. And I didn’t have an iPod back when ripping CDs became hip. Plus, I wasn’t often on the computer, especially not on the iMac, where all the music “has” to be.
How is it possible that, in our family, I didn’t have an iPod?
We got the Mini first, which Chris mainly used. Then we got a Shuffle but like I want to do any major listening when I can’t select the music. (The red ones are still pretty cool.) So I just kept listening to CDs. After we moved here, Chris got a Video and gave me the Mini. But I still didn’t have much face time with the iMac and I used it with the stereo in my office — at a conservative ministry where my listening options were restricted. I switched between CDs and K-LUV for the traffic reports on my commute. (CD to radio is an easier switch.) Then I had Caelyn, quit my job, and Chris wanted a Nano to go with his shoes. You see where this is going, right?
I was down with the Nano, so long as I got the Video, which I use every day.
And there you have it. The only functioning CD players we have now are on computers.
5. I spend more money than I usually do: movies, music, food, swimsuit, toys. I didn’t spend a lot, but it felt like it since I rarely spend money exclusively on me. (Yeah, the ball, Mr. Potato Head, and The Great Mouse Detective weren’t for me.) I didn’t buy a ton of stuff when I lived by myself (from Jan 01 to June 04) either, but I still spent a decent amount of “extra” cash. I’d guess I probably bought around 10 CDs a month and ate out all the time. Not only that, but say I really wanted to go out for steaks but you were strapped for cash. Not a problem. It was on me. I paid my bills on time and always had groceries too. And I flippin’ worked on campus. I had my rent (and insurance and tuition) covered for most of that time, but I still don’t understand how I had that kind of cash.
I’m sure no one but my sister is interested, but here’s the swimsuit I ordered:
Not super sexy, but practical enough for Aquacise and cute enough for the pool. The top is a material that’ll make it “suction” instead of flow with the exercise moves. The only catch is whether or not it’ll be long enough. Stupid 5′11.
Of course, if Chelsea had posted about this earlier, I’d have gone an entirely different route:
6. Apparently, Chris being out of town attracts individuals to interrupt Caelyn’s nap, resulting in her spending the rest of the day and the next day devastated by the slightest disappointment . . . and everything is disappointing.
“I can’t get my purse off my stroller; I’d better scream about it.”
“Now I can’t push my stroller through the wall; I’d better bang my head against the wall.”
“Mommy is standing, since I don’t want her to, I’d better pull my hair and cry about it.”
“I don’t want to wear Mommy’s flip flop, but I’m going to keep putting it on and whining about it anyway.”
“Maverick keeps looking at me and I don’t like it, so I’ll just screech and flail my arms at him.”
(She just kissed me while I typed that, so now I feel a little guilty. She’s still a sweetheart.)
Two maintenance guys showed up yesterday to “inspect the apartment.” I asked them to come back later, but it had to be “right” then. They had a “schedule.” I’d like to point out that had I not been there, Maverick would’ve been, and they couldn’t have come in. But they did. And they accomplished nothing aside from changing the filter and spreading their cologne everywhere. I showed them where the window leaks and where the weather stripping is so far gone that you can see outside and told them that the toilet has to be plunged at least once a month. They didn’t care; these weren’t on the list. Apparently, only the filter, the locks, and the hall light and smoke detector count. They didn’t even check the other smoke detectors. Also, I know how to change a light bulb. And I’d fixed the deadbolt two days before.
Today a solicitor called. Two days ago a realtor showed up. Maverick barked at some kids the day before that.
7. I stay up way too late. I don’t mean to, but I always do. I don’t have to be doing anything. I can be watching some show I don’t care about or holding out for a show I do like or organizing or perusing the Web or reading or thinking or listening to music or taking bubble baths or cleaning or planning a project I’ll never do or writing or watching infomercials for products I’d never use (Cristin, you so need a Cricut!). And if HGTV gets turned on, well, it doesn’t matter how stupid the show is, how obnoxious the host is, or how ugly the design is — I’m hanging in for the reveal. Before and after!
Since I was ripping old CDs, I spent a lot of time up late on the Internet while listening to stuff I haven’t listened to in a while.
Like this:
And this:
And lots of other stuff that I have listened to since I acquired the Video iPod, but not as often as I used to.
8. It makes my family nervous. They like safety. They think safety is most accessible in the company of a trusted male (and least accessible in the company of an unknown/untrusted male).
9. Walking Maverick (a 95 lb shepherd dog who swerves and pulls) is tricky with a 20-month old. But we enjoyed our “family walks” all the same.
10. There are wasps in the Mail Center. And everywhere else. Plotting against me.
PS — Thanks for your comments! Look for responses during tomorrow’s nap time! But please don’t call or drop by to inquire about them or ask me to buy something. My patience is about spent.
I changed Caelyn’s diaper, got her dressed, cut her fingernails, got the dirt out from in between her toes, and pulled her hair into pigtails this morning.
In other words, I provoked a massive breakdown.
Or maybe she was just thrown off by the time change, because when I picked her up and put on the lullaby portion of Slugs & Bugs & Lullabies, she put her head on my shoulder and just about fell asleep . . . before lunch.
We were sitting there in the office chair listening to “Beautiful Girl” and I had to admit — it’s actually a really pretty lullaby. Mainly acapela with sweet, imagistic lyrics:
I’ve got your bottle,
and I’ve got you swaddled
and you’re to loud to ignore.
Your mamma is sleeping,
the angels are keeping,
so cry no more.Hey, beautiful girl,
Daddy loves you, he loves you,
most beautiful girl
in the whole wide world.The stars are all shining,
the birds are reclining,
the squirrels are all nestled down,
and the trees in the forest
are joining the chorus
and swaying to the sound.[chorus]
I know that moons rise
and time flies
and sweet little girls get older,
and then when you do things,
or your heart breaks,
will you still cry on my shoulder?Hey, beautiful girl,
Daddy loves you, he loves you,
most beautiful girl
in the whole wide world.
I’ve mentioned Andrew Peterson and Randall Goodgame’s kids’ album before, and said that for a children’s album, it’s actually enjoyable. It’s obviously for kids, but it won’t make you want to destroy every music-playing device in your house. The first half is made up of fun tracks about bears not wearing underwear, post office ladies in the snow, babies who won’t burp, and imaginary tigers. The second half serves up lullabies that feature both daddies singing to their children, assuring them that they’ll be right down the hall while they sleep and not to worry, God will be keeping them through the night. Obviously, “Beautiful Girl” fits into the latter half.
(You can listen to a few tracks on Peterson’s website.)
As I was listening, I started thinking about some of my very first albums and whether or not they drove my parents crazy. There was Antshillvania, the story of the prodigal son, ant style. Music Machine and Down by the Creek Bank came to mind too. There were movie soundtracks, like The Little Mermaid (I used to sing “Kiss the Girl” in my sister’s ear when she was sleeping, hoping she’d give up her crush’s name in her sleep) and An American Tail (I so rocked “Somewhere Out There” on the piano).
And then there was Sandi Patti and The Friendship Company. (No, I don’t know why Patti’s with an “i” instead of a “y.”)
I looked high and low for a YouTube or audio file, but came up empty-handed. I can, however, share these lyrics from my memory (though I make no promises of accuracy):
Welcome to the friendship company.
You’re gonna love the friendship company.
Howdy, friend, hey come on in,
to the friendship company.
Now take the hand of someone near you,
turn around and say, “Hello.”
You’re gonna find the friends Jesus,
are everywhere you go.
We have friends of every color,
we have friends in every land,
but when you share the love of Jesus,
every friend can understand.
I guess that one would be a good contrast to the first half of Slugs & Bugs & Lullabies. Need a contrast to the second?
I don’t exactly remember those puppets, but there’s something familiar about them. It could just be that the intro on the video is also on the cassette.
Wanna know a secret? I didn’t even make it through that entire video. So it seems likely that my parents would’ve just barely escaped my childhood with their sanity too, right?
Not so fast. I contend that they, in fact, loved Antshillvania, Down by the Creek Bank, and Music Machine, all of which I had on vinyl. And they adored The Friendship Company!
My case is three-fold:
1) They purchased each one for me and/or my sister.
2) Getting their kids into Christian music was very important to them, particularly to my mom.
and most incriminatingly,
3) The very first musical event I ever attended (some time prior to 1988):
Let me assure you, my parents and their friends were there and it was entirely their idea.
Okay. So that video’s not actually from the concert we attended, but that song’s from the tour good old Sandi was on back then. Some time during the evening, she sang “Friendship Company” and invited all the children on stage. I went up, but only stood on the stairs, out of the spotlight. Afterwards, my parents couldn’t wait to get me in The Friendship Co.
I think I must’ve gotten kicked out a long time ago. But I’m not complaining. I’ll take slugs and bugs to friends any day.
Note: I’m not giving this movie an “F,” so don’t feel like you don’t need to read the actual post to get to my real assessment.
If you’ve never watched Sesame Street, the title of this post probably doesn’t make sense to you. If you haven’t seen it in a while, you should give it try. Caelyn’s not quite there, so I haven’t really watched it since my mom told me I was too old to keep getting Sesame Street Magazine. But I put it on for her in the hotel over Christmas one morning. And you know what? It’s kinda funny!
“A” was the letter of the day. Grover was a doctor, an Alphabet Specialist, who thought he knew everything, but kept misconstructing the Letter A. The nurses would say, “That’s not what A looks like.” And Dr. Grover would say, “I’m an Alphabet Specialist!” A kept reeling off words that start with “a,” until Dr. Grover would say, “That’s really annoying!” And A would reply, “A-nnoying!”
Then there was this bit where Ernie tried to teach the kids that you can use touch to identify something. He closed his eyes and reached out just as Bert entered the room. He felt Bert’s arm and said it was like a garden hose. Then he felt Bert’s head and said it felt like a shag carpet. Finally he correctly guessed, “Bert!”
Bert was impressed, but stormed off when Ernie said, “I didn’t know you wore a rug, Bert!”
Think I’ve digressed too far? Don’t worry. I’ve got a tie in:
Follow That Bird! was my very first theatrical experience. And I loved it . . .
. . . even if the Letter F didn’t make any appearances. I guess Big Bird just knew I’d get all the F I’d ever need in Boston:
You know I’m no prude when it comes to media. But since I don’t live in an obscenity factory, it’s impossible not to notice when I’ve been transported into one via film. . . .
The first time I saw Good Will Hunting I was a jr. or sr. in high school, and if you’ve read this post, you know I wasn’t at my house. I was at my friend Jacob’s, whose parents had moved, leaving the house to Jacob. (He’s got three years on me.)
So it was Jacob, C.C., our buddy Toby, and a handful of people I didn’t know from Jake’s college. Jacob and I were were cozy on the couch. C.C. was leaning against it by my legs. And Matt Damon was spouting math ingenuity and f-bombs left and right. I admit; I was too distracted by it to pay attention to the good story happening. And I didn’t even know I was in love with Elliott Smith, so I didn’t know I needed the soundtrack to meet my completist inclinations.
What I did know was that I was out of my element — All these people I didn’t know. All these words I wasn’t allowed to say. It was another world, and despite all my rebellious longings, being in it made a guilty pit in my stomach. Even though C.C. did live in an obscenity factory, an Italian one complete with his brothers and half sisters and their 13 out-of-wedlock children, he felt the same pit in his stomach. So we ended up talking in the corner through most of the movie.
I saw Good Will Hunting again in college, enjoyed the story and the acting, and barely noticed the foul language. And, if I did notice it, I didn’t feel guilty about it.
So things have changed.
But last night when we watched Gone Baby Gone, I still noticed the level of obscenities. They didn’t distract me from the story or make my cheeks burn, but it’s hard not to notice when every scene includes several f-words. The c-word even made a few appearances. Men, women, children — they’re all cursing up a storm. It’s the kind of dialogue that keeps running through your head for 30 minutes after the movie wraps. Like when you’ve just finished American History X and head into the kitchen to make dinner, where you drop an egg, squint your eyes at it all pathetic on your clean floor, and think: “Stupid mother f*****!”
The half hour passes and you’re back to your “clean” thoughts. (I’m not quite sure how I should feel about that.)
The pace of Gone Baby Gone is a little slow, which gave me a chance to think: “People in Boston sure must cuss a lot,” and then think about the other movies I’ve seen set in Boston. Two came to mind, and I began to notice other similarities, mainly the names Matt Damon & Ben Affleck.
***
LET’S ASSESS:
Nearly 150 F-words and derivatives.
Screenwriters: Matt Damon & Ben Affleck
Starring: Matt Damon & Ben Affleck
Setting: South Boston
226 F-words and derivatives.
Starring: Matt Damon
Setting: South Boston
121 F-words and derivatives.
Screenwriter: Ben Affleck
Director: Ben Affleck
Starring: Casey Affleck (who, by the way, starred along side Matt Damon in the Ocean’s franchise and both Matt and Ben in Good Will Hunting. Michelle Monaghan is also in this one and previously appeared in The Bourne Supremacy, featuring none other than Matt Damon.)
Setting: South Boston
No, I didn’t tally those myself. Thanks to my parents, I know about this site that does it for you.
I’m not necessarily complaining. Just observing. In fact, I’m a huge Matt Damon fan. You’ve got The Bourne Trilogy, The Departed, The Good Shepherd, The Ocean’s flicks, Saving Private Ryan, Good Will Hunting, The Rainmaker . . . he’s good in just about everything he does. (Ben on the other hand, doesn’t do it for me too often.)
So there you have it:
Matt Damon and the Affleck brothers are from South Boston, where they couldn’t help but learn to curse like sailors and they want everyone else to know how gritty it was and is. They work what they know.
And how does that work out for their films?
Well, Good Will Hunting’s a good story. The Departed, if you can tolerate its coarse exterior (and I know some of you can’t or won’t), is excellent. Both worthy of their Academy Awards.
And Gone Baby Gone’s “not bad.”
It’s Affleck’s directing debut, in which he does a decent job, even though the flashbacks to reveal what really happened and/or what may have happened are kind of hokey. The acting — Casey Affleck, Michelle Monaghan, Morgan Freeman, Ed Harris — is quite good. The screenplay’s a little lacking. I already mentioned the pace. It’s set up as a crime mystery, but gives too much away in its timing. The dialogue feels a little forced and at times cheesy. Casey Affleck’s narrating off screen felt too “40s Detective Drama” to me. (Maybe I just associated it with that awful Boy Meets World episode.) One detail in the resolution just isn’t believable.
It simply tries too hard to be too many things. And I’m not sure Ed Harris can ever get away with saying “radio” in a movie again.
But it’s not a bad film.
In the end, I guess, Gone Baby Gone’s less of an experience and more of an exercise in ethical thought — like you might encounter when examining The Holocaust or The Underground Railroad, but kidnapping’s central here. And it’s a worthwhile process:
(I’m truncating the questions raised in the movie and the possibility for you to discuss them with each other and me on For the Record — as well as the opportunity to examine a movie with “dirty” language through the filter of Christian faith, not the “rules” of Christian subculture — just in case you’d be mad at me for giving away too much, even though I think it’ll be okay.)
