There Is No Stuffing Left in the House
December 1, 2008
First of all, I have to point out that last night, David and Clif ceremoniously flushed ice down two toilets, simultaneously, at exactly 8:02 pm. David claimed he heard that doing this would make it snow.
I am here to tell you that there is snow coming down here in Nashville this morning. It never snows on December 1 in Nashville. I don’t know what to make of this.
Catching Up on Things
I REALLY apologize for the delay in writing. The lag came because a while back, I set a goal for myself: I wouldn’t blog until I finished the sleeves for that Margaret sweater. I thought it would give me a little challenge, something to shoot for, and I figured it would get my competitive spirit up. Kind of a Mike-Mulligan-digs-the-basement-in-just-one-day-type deal.
Well, it was so defeating that I’ll never do THAT again. In fact, I’m going to blog only until the Margaret sleeves are finished. Which means you have a lot of blogging coming your way.
So much has happened since I last wrote. OK, so not so much, but I have been working on the Margaret sleeves, and I knew you’d want to know that.
Thanksgiving Was Great
Thanksgiving was a blur of gravy and family, both delicious, and there was a moment on Friday night, when all 12 of us were wedged under this one roof, where I thought: this is really great. This would make life so interesting, to have six children, along with six parents, all living together. I mean: if we had another house glued onto the side of this one, of course. A suburban kibbutz, without all that pesky farming. Somebody always running off to the mall for something.
One thing I noticed: it’s really great to have a three-year-old niece in the house, because she is ready and willing to do the Hokey Pokey at any time.
I managed to sneak in two DVDs, an existential double feature that I recommend to anyone who’s feeling too cheerful. Movie #1 was The Hours, which I was shocked to realize was made six years ago. I can’t really believe that. Nicole Kidman lives in Nashville now–I think we’ve discussed this–and I really would like to talk with her about her wardrobe for this movie. Fabulous. So deliriously dowdy and 1923. I think this may be the direction I’m headed. The shapeless dress has a lot of potential.
There’s one scene in The Hours when Julianne Moore, the teetering homemaker of 1951, takes a look at the failed birthday cake she’s made for her husband, and you just know: she’s going to make another one, and you know it’s not a good idea. “Go buy a damn cake!” I yelled at the screen. “QUICK! Get yerself to a bakery!”
Movie #2: Lost in Translation. I was shocked to discover that Scarlett Johansen was only 18 when she made this movie. That’s just not all that old. This is the movie where Bill Murray plays a tired Clint Eastwood sort of movie star, in Tokyo to make a whiskey commercial for big pay. He meets Scarlett Johansen in the bar, and off they go on their existential journey of longing and karaoke.
I think if you watch these two movies in close succession, you will need to run some Elavil in your tap water. Why am I drawn to such delightfully grim movies?
(If you want to watch The Hours in nine minutes, well, here ya go. YouTube never ceases to amaze me.)
I welcome suggestions for another DVD double feature. I have movie fever now!
(Still snowing. Just wanted to point that out.)