The Crab Chronicles

Stinky Days

I was so wiped out last night after I got home, we just had grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner. I put a single slice of salami on Alesia’s sandwich and when she bit into it she made a face. “I don’t want salmon on here!” she exclaimed.

She gets the word “salmon” mixed up with the word “salami.”

I just calmly said “There is no fish on your sandwich.”

“Mo-om! You know what I mean!” she said.

“Use your words, honey.” I replied calmly.

“Salmami! Whatever. I didn’t want it on my sandwich!” she finally replied.

I would have been more sympathetic, if we hadn’t discussed the words “salami” and “salmon” within the past 24 hours.

I used sliced provolone in all the sandwiches. We have amassed 3 packages of provolone. Are we addicts?? No. It has been on sale at Kroger. I buy whatever sliced cheese is on sale, except Swiss. Nobody in the house like Swiss except Mother. It’s safe from predators at my house, and she can always count on finding it in the fridge, unlike, say, provolone or muenster.

Alesia likes provolone. A lot. She doesn’t like pronouncing it – that took a while, that multi-syllabic Italian word – but she likes it.

My mother had a craving for cherry pie when we were buying groceries Sunday, so we baked a Mrs. Smith’s cherry pie last night. To my astonishment, Alesia ate a piece. She usually doesn’t like fruit pie of any sort. Progress has been made. Or maybe she just added enough Cool Whip that the pie was barely tasteable.

Our movie last night was My Fair Lady, one of my favorite movies ever. Michael played Nintendo the entire time, except when he was eating his cherry pie. We only got halfway through it. Tonight he will half watch it and half play WWF Smackdown on his Nintendo. I bet $5 though that tomorrow he will be quoting back the one semi-naughty line from the film, when Eliza is watching the horse race and hollers “C’mon Dover, move yer bloomin’ arse!” We watched that part tonight.

Alesia reminds me a bit of Eliza. She giggled uncontrollably during the scene where the maids pull of Eliza’s clothes and try to get her into the bath. I have seen the movie so many times I don't know where the laughs are, but Alesia laughed a lot. It was great to see her enjoy it.

When Alesia tries to imitate Eliza’s Cockney accent, it’s so funny – she sounds southern.

 

I read Pioneer Woman's website every day, and I confess, I am a PW junkie. I never miss a day. Today’s personal section, called Confessions , was about PW getting really dirty last Sunday. I thought it was hilarious. You may or may not agree.

The most dirty I have ever been was when I was in high school and decided one Saturday to bathe all 3 of the dogs we had, who had been sprayed by a skunk. I put on a bathing suit and went to work, pulling each dog into the tub. Soap only made it worse. Club soda didn’t work. Tomato juice didn’t work. Trying to pour tomato juice over a wriggly 80 lb. mutt dog with an attitude is an experience I hope never to repeat.

Then I went to a rehearsal for a play. None of the other actors would go near me. I had showered. I thought I smelled OK. I was so wrong. I smelled like wet-skunky-tomato-dog. Any one of those smells isn’t pleasant, but the four together were like a nuclear warhead of stink, and I couldn’t disguise it with Dial soap. The director made me go home.

Ah, the humiliation. Time has dulled the memory only a bit. We were driving through the mountains the other day and accidentally rolled over a dead skunk, and the aroma filled my nostrils, which was not a happy experience.

I have suffered through days when I simply forgot deodorant, days of running around downtown in 100 degree heat, while wearing pantyhose and heels, days of navigating foreign airports while pressed against people with stinky BO, days of moving house in summer heat, etc. I have been pooped on, peed on, and thrown up on - and that was just by Coco.

A toddler once peed on me. I was in college, and she was the younger sister of my Little Sister. She was adorable. I took her to the movie with us and she fell asleep and wet me. Fortunately I was wearing overalls. After the movie, she woke up, look down at me, and screamed “I peed on Big Sister!!” Everyone in the theatre looked, which I thought was sort of amusing. Keisha, the toddler's sister, was horrified.

When my mother fell a few years ago and broke both shoulders, I had to clean up an alarmingly large pool of blood in our laundry room, and the smell of the blood almost made me gag. I don’t mind blood, but I don’t like to smell large amounts of it. 

Neither of my kids has ever thrown up or peed on me, for which I am eternally grateful. There are huge advantages to becoming a mom to older kids who don’t wear diapers…

Actually, cleaning up poop and pee is no big deal to me. I am really not squeamish. I compiled a list of worse things.

My Top Ten Things Worse Than Cleaning Up Poop or Pee

10.     Spending an evening with one of my past boyfriends.

9.      Washing skunk smell off of large dogs.

8.      Going to the Krystal. [I hate the smell]

7.      Going for a hike anywhere.

6.      Taking my kids to Whitewater [water park].

5.      Watching TV all afternoon.

4.      Eating broccoli.

3.      Smelling any of these things cooking all afternoon in my house: collards, turnip greens, kale, broccoli. 

2.      Getting a tattoo.

And the #1 thing worse than cleaning up poop or pee [drumroll please!]

1.      Being president of the United States at this moment in history!!

Yes, I would rather stick knitting needles in my eyes, or set my hair on fire, than have to deal with the mess our country is in at the moment. Whether you voted for him or not, you should all be praying President Obama makes good decisions and gets us out of this mess. I bet he would rather clean up poop or pee than deal with Congress any day. Far less stink involved in the former.

 

BOOK UPDATE

I have seen the cover for the new book, now entitled Adopting Alesia: The Crusade for My Russian Daughter. It’s so exciting to see that. I think I will be able to really start marketing it once the cover design is finished and it’s ready to roll off the presses. Hopefully that will be in the next couple of months. I am waiting on several other writers to finish reading the manuscript and give me endorsements.

Also, next month the anthology Call Me Okaasan will come out, with my essay in it, which is very exciting. This is a link to editor Suzanne Kamata’s blog, Gaijin Mama, which I read every day. Suzanne, an American, is married to a Japanese man and lives in Japan. She is an expert on multi-cultural mothering. You can pre-order the book now. Or you can wait and get an autographed copy from me in May. I will post more about it.

A Mile In My Shoes

The kids and I went out to get in the car yesterday and there was a film of green pollen on it. Pollen season is here.

I don’t know what it’s like in other parts of the country, but here in Atlanta [and Augusta] pollen season is a misery for folks with allergies. A green film covers everything. My mother has a terrible time, or used to before she got Veramyst – truly a wonderful product. I tell everyone I know with allergies to try it. There’s no talking latino bee promoting it on TV but it’s great.

I really screwed up yesterday with Michael.

I bought him some expensive Merrell shoes a while back, because I wanted him to have shoes I didn’t have to tie every morning. They have velcro closures. He can tie shoes with one hand, but not well. His prosthetic is now too uncomfortable for him to wear often, and so he only wears it to ride a bike or play tennis.

I bought myself some new tennis shoes a while back, white Nikes, and Mike liked them so much I just gave them to him. They were not comfortable to me, anyway. Now they are getting ratty looking because he wears them all the time.

He won’t wear the Merrell shoes. He wore one pair of Merrells and they got a hole in them, so I sent them back to the company. They sent me a replacement pair but the style is a bit different. He doesn’t like the style. He wore them several times before admitting that to me. Well, first he said they were uncomfortable.

Yesterday, the Merrells went with his outfit much better than the Nikes. I was trying to get Michael to wear the Merrells at least some of the time, maybe on weekends, to spare the Nike shoes, so I don’t have to buy new shoes again so quickly. He didn’t want to wear them. Without going into the painful details, suffice to say I tried to offer him choices about the shoes and he got very upset with me. I was short-tempered.

I finally took him and Alesia to Target yesterday morning so he could buy shoes, with his own money, and I ran over to the ATM. When I picked them up, he had bought a Nintendo game, not shoes. They didn’t have the shoes he wanted in his size. I fussed at him, and he cried.

In principal, I feel like I shouldn’t go buy him new shoes when he has a pair in very good shape, but just doesn’t like them. However, was it worth making him cry?? No.

Was he crying to manipulate me? I don’t think so. He said "Just take the money! I don't care!" and flung it all over the backseat of the car. It was said with deep despair. It tore me up.

I have had time to think about it.

Michael has a hard time giving up control to me. Why should he trust a mom to take care of him and know what’s best? That’s a new experience for him. He lived with a birthmom so alcohol impaired that he was pretty much on his own, caring for himself and for her, when he was very small. Michael told Mother a while back that he figured his birthmom was dead, because he wasn’t there to take care of her. She was living off the money the government gave her to care for him, like a welfare check, and when he went to the orphanage that stopped.

When he was in the orphanage, his caretakers said he was a leader. He had learned those skills on the streets. He is very street smart, very savvy little boy. There is a survivor wisdom there.

I have an acquaintance whose daughter was also adopted from a former Soviet bloc country, and the child was sent out on the streets to steal money and food when she was 3 years old. Her alcoholic birthmom would tell her, don’t come back without money - so she could buy vodka. The therapist told me about a 3 year old in Russia who had to eat  stuff dropped out of dumpsters, to survive. These kinds of stories are not that uncommon in former soviet bloc countries. Tiny children run around unsupervised on the streets, and steal and scrounge to survive.

I think Michael sometimes had to steal and eat garbage to survive. He hasn’t been able to tell me this yet, but he has dropped hints.

He does not want to be in public alone, ever. Bruce took the kids to Walmart last time he was home, and Michael wanted to stay right by his side. Bruce had to fuss at him a bit to get him to go with Alesia, while he looked at something else. I recently let Alesia run into Publix for a loaf of bread and Michael refused to go in, not wanting to leave my side. He told me once that in Kazakhstan shopkeepers would sometimes be mean to him. I can imagine in a poor village, a tiny boy in filthy clothes, with one hand, might be treated harshly.

He told me all his life, he never knew when he woke up in the morning if he would be alone, or if his mother would be there in the morning. Many times, he woke up alone, with nothing to eat, and his mother wouldn’t reappear for hours. No wonder he doesn’t like to be alone.

He also has no concept of caring for possessions, since he never had any until recently. The therapist said, he will take whatever is given to him, because he was never given anything until just a couple of years ago. In the orphanage, he was sometimes given a toy by a charitable group, but all toys had to be shared. Now he has things of his own, and he can finally be more discerning.

So I feel like a terrible mother for making such a big deal out of the shoes.

When we got home from Target, we had to hurry off to our lunch date. Alesia went in the house to fetch Mother. Michael didn’t want to get out of my car and into Mother’s car. I had to literally pull him out. He had stopped crying but was almost catatonic. I held him close, rubbed his back, and told him I was sorry for losing my temper. After minute, he relaxed.

Michael has an amazing capacity to love and forgive, especially when one considers what he has suffered in his life.

He is not an easy child to raise, but I feel privileged to be his mom.

 

The Funnest Thing

The rain is gone, but we got winter back. It’s overcast and cold today.

 

At breakfast this morning, we somehow got on the topic of pregnancy and what it does to a woman’s body. Mother was remembering a friend of hers who had 4 babies in 4 years, which is tough on a woman’s body. She said offhand “Well, you know the baby just takes what it needs from the mother’s body.” I nodded, completely inadequate in all discussions of pregnancy. Alesia looked horrified.

 

"I DON’T want to talk about that!” she said.

 

Mother and I were puzzled by Alesia’s vehemence.

 

“Sweetie, Granny just means the baby, if it needs calcium, for instance – “

 

Mother: “They used to say for every pregnancy, a woman lost a tooth!”

 

Alesia really looked agitated then. “I don’t want to hear this!”

 

I looked at Mother. She looked at me. “Alesia, this is perfectly normal. What’s the problem?”

 

“You mean, the baby will TAKE YOUR ORGANS??!!” she exclaimed in abject horror.

 

Mother and I both burst out laughing.

 

“No, Sweetie, the mother will just take vitamins and nutrients. It’s not like a horror movie! It’s not like Alien!” I tried to reassure her, but I couldn’t help giggling.

 

J                     J                     J                     J                     J

 

We met my cousin Mark and his wife for a very pleasant lunch at The Colonnade. Mark is a terrific photographer and took this photo:

 

 

After lunch we came back and rested a while, and Mother napped.

 

We went to the mall for Mother to get a pedicure late this afternoon, then Kroger. Mother sometimes gets a “quickie” pedicure, and waits to re-paint her toenails here at home. Alesia helps.

 

Michael came in my room right after we returned from Kroger and said “Alesia is doing the funnest thing ever!”

 

I couldn’t imagine what that could be, since last time I had looked she was unloading and putting away groceries. Then he said,

 

“She’s painting Granny’s toenails!!”

 

I tried not to laugh.

 

Mother told him later he was welcome to paint her toenails.

 

I told Michael that when he gets older and is dating, knowing how to give a woman a pedicure would be a real plus in the dating world.

 

Of course, once he turns 18 he has assured me he will be dyeing his hair some horrible color like shocking blue and maybe getting a Mohawk. Then all my careful home training will be for naught…

 

 

Riding Out the Deluge

As predicted, we have had a ton of rain all day. That’s OK – the drought goes on, though. My rain guage says more than 4 inches, just on my back patio.

 

We all slept in thie morning and ate a leisurely late breakfast. Michael had a therapy appointment and then I took the kids to the movie.

 

We saw Race to Witch Mountain - I was pleasantly surprised at how entertaining it was. The Rock actually turned in a decent acting performance. It wasn’t Shakespeare, but it was entertaining. The only thing that bugged me was Anna Robb's eyebrows. She's supposed to be blonde but she has wicked black eyebrows. It's disconcerting. [The photo below is from the movie.]

 

After the movie, we met another family for an early dinner at Fuddruckers, and had a nice time. It’s always fun to hang out with families with kids adopted from Kazakhstan or Russia.

 

That’s all I know for now. Hopefully tomorrow we can buy groceries and get everything done…

Tomorrow it's supposed to be 55 and sunny. That's like a January day! Yikes!

Folk Dance Nightmare

The deluge of rain has finally arrived. My drive across town this morning to work was like driving through an aquarium.

I frequently check out an interesting website called Foodista. They had a recipe on here that sounded easy and fun. You have to be open-minded about fake meat though. Yes, Imitation Crab Puffs. Now, I love imitation crab meat. It’s just fish, that’s all. I used to eat it a lot when I was dieting, right out of the package, drenched in fresh lime juice. It wasn’t bad. These crab puffs sound fabulous. Mother and I were talking the other day about trying to make something like pilmeni, the Russian dumplings the kids love so much. Mother suggested we get won ton wrappers from the grocery store. Those simple words “won ton wrappers” strike fear into my heart. It’s not as serious as the fear of “puff pastry” but it’s close.

Now, I can bake a cake or make a pie, no problemo. I can make cookies all day. However, any sort of complex baking, like a tort or something Julia Child might make, and I go spiraling into a tizzy. [In the south, a “tizzy” is much milder than a “hissy fit” but it’s still something you don’t want to see or experience. I think Yankees call it “anxiety.”]

In denial of my abilities to use won ton wrappers, I bought the kids some Buitoni ravioli at Kroger the other day, and it was really yummy. We had one package of mushroom and one package of spicy beef. The kids didn’t gobble it down like they do pilmeni, but they ate well. It’s a meal we will definitely do again.

Another website I really like is Epicurious . If you like to cook, it’s a terrific place to browse.

Michael told me with great disgust last night that in PE now the kids are folk dancing. I asked if he liked it. “No!” was the vehement reply. I was sympathetic. “I was forced to folk dance in 6^th grade. I am so sorry, son.” I empathized. I asked him if it was horrible to touch the girls. He shrugged and looked uncomfortable. I am actually glad to know he feels that way, after he told me how much he liked his sister’s magazines and all the photos of pretty girls.

Folk Dance Torture. I remember it well.

I was taller than all the boys. I was chubby. I would get so nervous I could hardly think of my own name, much less recall complicated dance patterns. The boys, the cute ones anyway, managed to dance with me as though I was NOT THERE. Yes, as a dance partner I ceased to exist in time and space, as they looked right through me, their eyes never meeting mine.

When I went to the Environmental [torture] Camp in 6^th grade we were forced to folk dance every day, often out in the parking lot, after dark. It got to where I heard the words “Virginia Reel” and broke out in a cold sweat.

There were two kinds of girls in the 6^th grade – foxes and dogs. I was a dog, a loser, a fat, ugly, awkward, pimple-ridden girl with goofy glasses. Most of the time I fervently wished to simply be invisible. The mean little boys would bark at me every time they saw me. No boy was ever nice to me unless he wanted to copy off my paper, because I was smart and usually had the right answers.

One little boy in particular was my chief tormenter – Steve Tudor. That was his name. He rode my bus, which was really awful. He continued to bark and say mean things about me for years. Finally, one time on the school bus, he went too far. My brother punched him in the face. After that, he didn’t bother me any more.

I don’t advocate violence as a problem-solving strategy. However, it worked for me.

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I ran to Old Navy on my lunch hour (in the pouring rain) and bought some jeans for Michael. They had no shorts in his size. It’s so frustrating. He wears a boys 14 husky and Old Navy has the best selection but even they had nothing. I got him two pairs of jeans, both 14 husky, and one pair was very loose, the other very tight. The tight pair had to have been a 12 and were mislabeled. I have to take them back and exchange them. Grrrr…..

 

We went out to dinner at a Japanese restaurant in Toco Hills, a great shopping area 15 minutes from the house. We were trying to tell Michael he had been there before and he couldn’t think what we were saying. Finally, he said “Is it the restaurant where the guy throws up the food?!” Uh, yes, but not quite that way…

 

I know it’s silly but I love food cooked over a hibachi. The other family at our table was very nice and we chatted with them. The father works at a local college and his wife is Chinese, and they have a little 8 year old boy. Nice folks. The Daddy is from Boston. I just had to forgive them for being Celtics/Red Sox people.

 

We watched Diary of a Mad Black Woman for our movie. I have to say, I really like Tyler Perry’s movies. He films in Atlanta and I always recognize a lot of locations. He may be a transplant but I like a filmmaker who keeps the jobs in Georgia. He also has good stories, with morals.

 

We are supposed to get more rain tomorrow. I’m thinking I will see the animals marching down Peachtree Street, two by two…

Pretty Flowers, Pretty Girls

Atlanta is bursting with spring foliage. Maybe it’s the rain we’ve had the last couple of days. I don’t know. I just want to take my camera everywhere and capture the beautiful azaleas, redbuds, even tulips I saw in one yard nearby. The older I get the more I appreciate God’s decorating.

I hate golf, but I like this photo of the Augusta National, where the Masters is played. In a week or so, there will be gorgeous azaleas like this everywhere here and in Augusta. There are even some in my yard.

It occurred to me last night that there is a movie I failed to mention the other day, and it deserves mention because it holds a special place in my heart. It’s called Dan in Real Life. It stars the brilliant Steve Carell and is just hysterical. Also great movies are:

Defiance

And Then She Found Me

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

Hellboy I and II

You can find reviews of all these [except Hellboy] on my movie review site, Scribblerchick's Movie Dish.

Yes, I am shamelessly promoting the site. I don’t post on there all the time, but I post about once a month, sometimes sooner. I don’t get to go see many movies that appeal to grownups.

I am not big on sci-fi or movies made from comic books, but I have to say I really enjoyed both Hellboy movies. They are intelligent and have funny moments, and good character development, unlike so many of those type films.

We watched a cute movie tonight, Blow Dry, a little British movie about rival hairdressers. It was one of Natasha Richardson’s last movies. She is excellent in it. You should rent it – if you have Netflix. I don’t know about other rental places.

Michael was brushing his teeth tonight after the movie and he kept saying “bloody crap.” I pointed out that if he’s going to adopt British slang he needs to say nice things, like “Love” not “bloody” or “oy.” In the movie tonight everyone was always calling each other “love” or perhaps it’s better spelled “luv.” I don’t know. My kids love watching British movies, but neither one of them can do a British accent. I find British accents really easy, but then I’ve watched British films all my life. My kids have cute Russian accents that I defy any voice coach to imitate. Their southern twangy Russian English sets them apart. LOL

We had to run to CVS tonight and pick up Mother’s prescriptions. Alesia bought a couple of Seventeen Magazines. Then she went back in the store for something and Michael started looking at her magazine. She was perturbed when she got back in the car. Michael handed it back and said something about he really preferred wrestling magazines. Then we stopped at Jersey Mike’s and she ran in for a sandwich. As soon as she was out of the car, Michael said to me, “I kind of liked that magazine of Alesia’s. It had lots of pretty girls in it!”

He takes after his grandfather, who used to like to read Cosmo, for that very reason...

The Words of Another

Yesterday was one of those days when I was on edge all day. I have new grey hairs from yesterday.

I woke up with a sinus headache that lasted most of the day. I can’t wear the Breathe Right strips, much as I love them. Anything that keeps my nose open all night causes a severe headache the next day.

Getting Michael out of bed and off to school yesterday was WORSE than trying to nail jello to a wall. I’ll take jello any day, a nice cherry jello, thank you. Michael complained incessantly yesterday about his teeth hurting. He about drove Mother and me crazy. He kept grabbing his lip and pulling it back to show me terrible places, boo boos from hell, and waaaaaaaaah “I don’t WANT these braces!” Oh my lord. It was like I had tortured him, he claimed. He was worse than a 3 year old. Of course, in the orthodontist office he was cool as a cucumber, and they praised him lavishly for being a good patient. He saves the angst for home.

After the terrible struggle to make him eat breakfast and leave yesterday, I finally just lost patience when we were in the car in front of his school, after he said how much he didn’t like the school clinic.

“Michael, I am NOT picking you up from school today, no matter what! You need to just tough it out, boy! You’re acting like a baby!” I snarled. Then I gave him two Motrin and a kiss, and sent him inside. “Love you! Have a good day!” I called out, as always.

I think it’s good for a boy to be raised by a mama who has wild mood swings. Gets him ready for later life when he’s married.

Michael had to return to the orthodontist to get his braces fixed yesterday afternoon, and there was magic in the air. The technician who fixed them told him his mouth would be sore for a day or two, then he would be fine. Exactly the same thing Mother and I had been telling him, but did he believe us?! No. We weren’t wearing a uniform and handing out mouth rinse. What do we know?

I found out last night that Michael was warned yesterday by the assistant principal that if he was late one more time he would get after-school detention. THANK YOU!!! I should send that lady a gift card. Michael actually got out of bed without me having to scream, sing, or cry. We left the house on time. He listened to her. I had been warning him about being late, but what do I know?!

Mama or Grandmama can say something all day and the kids just stare at us. Let someone at school say it, and it becomes The Holy Word. I think when someone that’s not family says it, there’s a sense of awe, because it’s proof we’re not just making this stuff up to bug them.

My mother got really ticked with my dad years ago, because she would tell him things at home, and he would ignore her. If someone at work told him the same thing, he would come home and say “Hey, guess what Jim at work said!” – and tell her the same thing she had been telling him for months.

She got her revenge by hiding his remote control.

My mother refuses to call herself a feminist, but she always ruled the roost.

I ordered Michael a handheld electronic game that’s supposed to be a math tutorial type deal. It’s called Math Shark - isn't that cute?! I don't care if it's called Math Suppository, as long as it works. I just hope and pray it will intrigue him enough so he will work on his multiplication tables. I’ve tried everything in the world to get him to learn them – bribes, punishments, videos, etc. He still doesn’t know them all. He cannot do math in his head, either. I stink at math, but I can do it in my head very quickly, at least basic stuff. I never took higher math like calculus, or even Algebra II, but he will likely need to do some higher math by the time he gets to high school, and I’ve got to get him a good foundation in the basics.

We are getting more rain. We desperately need it, but I’m already sick of it after only one day…

UPDATE

When I got home tonight [Wed.] Michael had been good all afternoon, and his complaints about the braces had dwindled to practically nil. He is also being cooperative about brushing his teeth diligently. YAY!

Patty, thanks for your comment. Michael started putting the wax on the braces on Tuesday, and is using the funky toothbrushes and everything. We have an entire small box of braces rinses, brushes, etc.

Movies I Like, Movies I Won't Rent

I have been a faithful Netflix customer for several years now, and I disappoint my kids every time we pass the nearby Blockbuster by declaring I will never go back there. Nope. Only Netflix. Blockbuster requires you to actually get in the car and take the movie back. Ugh. With Netflix, you simply pop it into the envelope they sent, seal it up, and stick it in the mailbox. That takes all of 1 minute.

Netflix also means I get to control the movies we see. Now, granted, I don’t always do a great job of censoring things. Sometimes I have to grab the remote from Alesia and fast forward while yelling at Michael to cover his eyes, but hey, those are not every day occasions. Just as often, I get some kids’ movie and fall asleep watching it.

I still maintain that an hour or so of movie watching at night after dinner is more wholesome than an hour or so of TV.

I have more than 300 movie in my Netflix queue, and I add new ones weekly. Sometimes, for instance, the kids will be studying World War II, and I’ll add a World War II movie. Sometimes I just discover an old movie by an actor I like, and order it, just to see if it’s really good. I often look up movies I liked as a kid and order them – Jungle Book, Mary Poppins, etc.

There’s a whole group of films out there that didn’t get much of a theatrical release, because they didn’t make 100 million dollars the first weekend in theatres, and yet they are good little films and deserve to be seen. When we watch something like that, I try to mention it here or even review it on the movie site, because I think it’s important to support smaller, less commercial films.

Here are some titles of movies that I consider “hidden treasures” – they either weren’t big at the box office, or are older films: Corrina Corrina, Last of the Dogmen, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels [the Steve Martin one], Moscow on the Hudson, Dragon The Bruce Lee Story, Being John Malkovich, Flicka. Then of course there are my all-time favorite movies, Braveheart, Groundhog Day, and Jerry Maguire. [NOTE: I have a weird, twisted sense of humor, and not everyone will like my choices. Google them first, and read a synopsis, if you’re in doubt.]

We recently watched a preview for Monty Python and the Holy Grail, which I saw in high school with a bunch of my fellow newspaper staffers, and thought was hysterically funny. Of course, as a high school kid I recall we had been drinking something beforehand [beer? Wine?] and so of course it was funny. Years later I saw it and was not so amused. I think I am going to order it for the kids, however. They like slapstick. I was on newspaper staff all 4 years of high school and we all used to enjoy walking around all day talking in our imitation Monty Python accents. The boys were especially amusing, doing that. (I was just shrill. I’m amazed my teachers didn’t have me hauled off to detention or the loony bin.)

I had a friend whose mother was British, and one day we were all in the car and I did my Monty Python voice for her. She started laughing hysterically and nearly wrecked the car. Funny thing was, the mother sounded like a Python character, and not just because she was British – she was tall and mannish looking and had a high shrill voice. She wasn’t funny, though - she didn't always remember to drive on the American side of the road. Yikes.

Netflix has an annoying habit. They feed into their computer my past choices, and suggest other movies I might like. Although that may sound fabulous to some marketing exec somewhere, it’s not really anything but annoying to me.

Since I rented Look Who’s Talking Now and Vice Versa, Netflix suggests I see The Bee Movie, and some dreadful thing called College Road Trip. I saw The Bee Movie in the theatre, and it was awful. Love Jerry Seinfeld, but he can’t write movies. College Road Trip I don’t think ever made it to the local gigaplex, because I had never heard of it until I saw a preview. It looked insanely stupid.

Netflix thinks I should see a movie called What Happens in Vegas. It stars Ashton Kutcher. I cannot stand Ashton. He made “prank” a verb. I LOATHE him. If I ever see him, I will kick him in his Mr. Happy and Ashton will speak soprano for the rest of his life.

They also think I want to see Definitely Maybe, a comedy about a little girl who tries to guess the identity of her mother. She’s being raised by her single dad. Considering the fact my kids never knew their birth fathers and their birthmoms are long gone, I don’t think that movie would be a good experience for us.

Sometimes, I have to admit, their choices are eerily accurate. Because I rented two comedies from the 1980’s. Big Business and Survivors, they suggest I see Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Airplane, and Beetlejuice. I actually own all those movies except Airplane.

We watched a movie over the weekend called The Prince & Me, about a Danish Prince who goes to an American college and falls in love, not telling his girlfriend he is a prince. Cute premise. It had some funny moments. At the end, though, the girlfriend chose to go to medical school and not be a princess, or queen, since the prince’s father conveniently abdicates. OK, I am fine with that. Test audiences must’ve hated the breakup, though, because in the end, the prince [now king] says he will wait for her to go to medical school and get out and work for Doctor’s Without Borders, and then, years later, she can marry him. They kiss. Happy ending. AAAARGH! I wanted to throw things at the TV. He’s going to wait 5-10 YEARS for her??? She’s going to be the king’s fiancée and go to medical school and then travel to third world countries where it’s dangerous??! I know, you’re saying Relax Dee, it’s just a movie. Well, yeah, but c’mon. I started explaining to Alesia why the ending was stupid and she got irate with me. It was Pretty Woman [terrible life choices! Be warned!] all over again…

AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT!

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I put this on the recipe page, for a yummy sounding Spinach Souffle. My cousin Frank's wife Karen makes this and says it's very tasty. I am sure it is, and we will make it soon. Michael loves spinach souffle. I may use fresh spinach though.

SPINACH SOUFFLE

 

Oven:  350 deg - 25 - 30 minutes                         Yield:  4 servings

 

1 (10 ounce) package frozen chopped spinach

1 Tablespoon grated onion

2 eggs, beaten

1/2 cup sour cream

1 cup Parmesan cheese (I use between 1/2 c and 3/4 c - 1 cup is too much for us)

1 Tablespoon flour

2 Tablespoons butter

Dash nutmeg

Salt and pepper to taste

 

Cook spinach with onion in small amount of water until thawed.  Drain.  Add the remaining ingredients to the cooked spinach.  Pour into a 1-quart greased casserole and bake at 350 deg for 25 to 30 minutes or until center is set.

Metal Mouth Michael

What an unusual day. I have not been able to keep my mind on anything for more than 5 minutes. I had a meeting at work for about 20 minutes and it was agonizing to keep my butt in the chair the entire time. Don’t ask me why.

I woke up at 5:270 this morning, my brain already jumping. I think part of it was anxiety about Michael’s orthodontist appointment this morning. He was so nervous he couldn’t finish his breakfast.

Now, Dr. C, the orthodontist, has put braces on the children of two of my friends, so I know he’s good. It was just the thought of the Frankenstein-like look my brother had for several years when he wore braces, plus of course worry over them hurting my baby.

I was very impressed when I got to Dr. C’s office and they showed us a computer animation of how the braces pull the teeth apart so the new ones can drop down in place and look nice. I was also impressed by how quickly and efficiently they were able to put on the brackets and wires. They told Michael probably 24 months to do everything, but I was told it might be accomplished in as little as 16-18 months. They just don’t tell the kids that for fear they will be upset if/when it takes longer.

I had taken a book to read while they put the braces on, but I kept jumping up and walking around the corner to check on Michael. He was a trooper. I know he was greatly anxious about the procedure, though. I think that’s why we had some behavior issues with him last week.

Reminding him to brush his teeth more often is something I dread. However, he did fine tonight after school and after dinner. They gave me some special dental floss picks, too, since he can’t floss regularly.

From work, I called the house around 4 and Alesia answered. I asked her what she thought of Michael with braces. “He looks like a teenager!” was her funny response. Alesia examined the braces in minute detail, Mom reported, as soon as she got home.

When I got home, Mother said Michael had complained about his braces all afternoon. He continued to complain most of the evening. After a very soft foods dinner – meatballs, mashed potatoes, sliced cucumbers – Mike said one of the brackets had come loose from a tooth. It looks like he’s right. He said there was some issue with one of the back teeth, too. So I have to call Dr. C’s office tomorrow and hope they can do a quick adjustment on him.

By the time I finished dinner and our movie hour, I was flat out exhausted. Alesia wanted to talk about tomorrow’s outfit. She wants to wear a very short skirt. I told her it’s too short, but does she listen to me?! Of course not. She’s a teenager.

She told me she loved science class today because things exploded. She can mix things at home that will explode, too, she said! How exciting! I told her she better not share that wisdom with her brother…

 

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My friend and neighbor Jenean is making beautiful decorated cakes now, and if you're in the Atlanta area and want a special cake, please check out this link.

Sleeping, Ogling, Breathing right

I actually slept until almost 9 this morning. It doesn’t make up for all the lost sleep from last week, but it was nice to wallow a bit…

 

We did our Kroger run this morning. So funny to go into the book section of the Kroger – we got to a super Kroger that has everything under the sun – and there was a big yellow children’s book called Mr. Happy . Michael just laughed out loud when he saw it. I am thinking of giving it to him as a joke.

 

We had to dash home and eat a sandwich because I met a potential buyer at the condo. Nice man, and his wife used to work for Suntrust Bank where my dad worked. He owns a beverage company here in Tucker, and his wife moved to their mountain home and he’s just looking for a place for a few days a week while he tends to business here. We shall see what happens. I am praying hard even if he doesn’t want to buy the condo we can do some sort of lease purchase deal.

 

Late this afternoon, we took Michael’s scooter, old skates, and skate board, and traded them in at Play It Again Sports for a spiffy like–new pair of rollerblades. I had to pay a $35 difference, but we still came out well. Everything got too small for Michael. He grows so fast. At least he can wear the skates for a while. Even on e-bay, skates that nice cost like $75 and up.

 

We went to Target late this afternoon so Alesia could get some new flip flops and bras. We’re into flip flop weather now. It was beautiful again today – highs in the 60’s. Michael and I sat in the snack bar and had a cold drink, and watched the odd folks walking out of the store. There were twin ladies wearing very skimpy, skin tight outfits, and they were enormous. Tattoos, also. They looked like black female sumo wrestlers. Another lady had pink hair and a tattoo under her eye, and dead white makeup. Alesia saw a woman in the shoe department who was very attractive, “…except she had tattoos all over her back and arms, you know, you could see them because she was wearing a tank top. Eeeuw.” [Quoting Alesia] You know, the Target is in a fairly decent middle class area. I was surprised by all the odd folks. I told the children next time we are bored late on a Sunday afternoon let’s go hang out at Target…

 

The kids and I are trying out these Breathe Right nasal strips because we all have trouble breathing through our noses at night. So far mine is working great. I hope they don’t have some nasty long-term side effect like your nose caves in or falls off or something. I read somewhere that Maurice Chavalier did so much cocaine his nasal septum was eaten away. Yikes. Thank heavens for nasal septums – very alliterative, ne c’est pas?

Update: The Breathe Right strips actually work! Nice to not have a stuffed up nose all night...