The Heat Is On--Politically

That darn John McCain! He didn't follow the script! He was supposed to choose some boring, sober white guy as his running mate. This is the Democrats' time! They're supposed to resume their rightful place running the world. They're the Progressive Party--they nominated an African American, for cryin' out loud! That'll impress the masses and the Europeans.

/sarc off

I was so jazzed when I heard John McCain selected Sarah Palin as his running mate! Not only was the choice inspired, his timing was superb.

When I read "10 Reasons to vote for Sarah Palin," (apologies for not posting the link--I'm writing on the fly), I had to send it to Hubs. She hunts, she fishes, she has five kids, she's outspoken. In other words, she's a lot like me--so, of course, Hubs will love her! (He does. ;)

The Heat Is On--Climatically

I'm not talking politics. I'm talking about the temperature outside. It was hot enough that I've been going bare-legged. And I'm an old-fashioned gal--going to work sans-hose is a serious decision.

So we're at the end of the summer. And my legs are ivory-white. So white that my colleague thought I was barefoot because my legs matched my shoe color!

Of course, it hasn't been this warm for most of the summer. The kids started back to school this week, so we traditionally have a heat wave now. (The other traditional time for a heat wave is just before school lets out in June.) And, rather than walking, I've been taking an aqua-aerobics class in an indoor pool. So, the color of my legs is no surprise.

I do have one question: how in the heck do women wear regular shoes without stockings and not get blisters? The shoes I wore yesterday are a pair I've had since I was pregnant with DD#1, so it's not the fact that they're new. But I see women wear pumps and no stockings all the time. How do they do it? Take them off when they get home and cry?

Movie Review: Tropic Thunder

Update: Legitimate concerns have been raised about how the mentally challenged are portrayed in Tropic Thunder. I don't think Ben Stiller is making fun of those who are challenged per se; rather he is making fun of the fact that the movie industry often rewards actors and actresses who take on those roles to gain "gravitas" within the industry. In fact, there is a scene between Tugg Speedman and Kirk Lazarus where Kirk explains why actors such as Dustin Hoffman (Rain Man), Tom Hanks (Forrest Gump), and Sean Penn (I Am Sam) did or didn't get nominated for the Oscar for these roles. During this discussion, Kirk utters the line, "They didn't go full retard."

Unfortunately, someone in Marketing thought "Don't Go Full Retard" would be a terrific line to license for t-shirts, etc. And it's now showing up at local malls. And, yeah, I can understand why that line would appeal to a certain segment of the population, especially young adult males who are not noted for their subtlety and empathy.

Apparently Ben Stiller is among them.

Mr. Stiller could have made his point about the movie industry honoring only those actors who make "serious" movies, about "issues" using a different example. In fact, he missed a great opportunity since Jon Voight, who made his film debut in Midnight Cowboy dealing with male prostitutes, makes a cameo in Tropic Thunder. He could have used gays or films where physically beautiful actors or actresses get into the gutter. Mr. Stiller would have upset a different population, but it would have been a population that could fight back on their own. That would have been the braver choice.

Also, Mr. Stiller mocks current celebrities adopting children from the Third World, fulfilling a need within themselves rather than any need of the child. Because Tropic Thunder is a spoof, this all goes horribly wrong and Tugg Speedman seems to be throwing a child off a bridge who, at the time, was stabbing Tugg in the back. To me and DD#2, it was obvious that he threw a dummy--but still.

Again, parts of this movie are funny. Again, I would not rate this movie a "must see." But there will be teens and young adults who see this movie and the above are issues that should be discussed.


Hubs saw Tropic Thunder first and then dragged me to theater to see it. DD#2, who is now 15, came along, too. Commercial reviews of the movie were mixed. But Hubs was adamant that I'd enjoy it, so we went.

Looking back, I didn't realize the movie was rated "R." Had I paid attention, I might have been more cautious about bringing DD#2 along.

The movie opens with a "commercial" for an energy drink and a series of "trailers" that are so seamless done I didn't realize the movie had started. My first clue was that they were really over-the-top. My second clue was one of the trailers featured Ben Stiller, only he wasn't called Ben Stiller.

Then comes a voiceover, reading the opening lines on the screen about a mission to Vietnam. Ten men went in, four came out, two wrote a book, only one was a bestseller and this is a movie about that bestseller. Jump to the movie s The director, Damien Cockburn (Steve Coogan) is shooting key scene and the leading actor, Tugg Speedman (Ben Stiller) can't bring the right emotion to the fore because the other actor in the scene, Kirk Lazarus (Robert Downey, Jr.) is spitting on him. Cockburn has a meltdown, which causes the special effects director to blow up the jungle.

The movie is two months behind schedule and it's only the second day of shooting.

After Cockburn is royally chewed out by the studio head, the author of the book the movie is based on, Four Leaf Tayback (Nick Nolte), suggests that they go for more realism by setting up cameras in the jungle, dropping the actors off, and shooting the film as they make their way back to the helicopter. Cockburn thinks this is a wonderful idea.

At the dropoff, he collects the actors' cellphones, hands Speedman the outline of the script and a map, tells them he has the only radio that can summon the chopper, and steps on an old French landmine, blowing himself up. The actors are appalled--except for Speedman, who thinks this is a stunt. But he needs to make this movie, so off the band goes.

And a what a band it is. Tugg Speedman is the star of a disaster movie franchise who also played the lead character in Simple Jack, who is retarded--a performance ignored by the Academy. Jeff Portnoy (Jack Black) is noted for playing multiple characters in a series of comedy movies where the main jokes--the only jokes--revolve around farts. He's also a drug addict. There is a young black rapper, Alpa Chino (Brandon T. Jackson) whose only acting experience is in music videos and advertisements for an energy drink called "Body Sweat." He resents that Lazarus is playing a black man when he is, in fact, white and an Aussie. Lazarus is a "serious" actor and never drops out of character, even when the cameras are not rolling. Problem is, his character is a stereotype. Finally, there is Kevin Sandusky (Jay Baruchel) who is the straight guy. He's read the book, the script, the in-flight magazine. He's also been in the Army and is the only one who can read a map.

They are not alone, however. They have been dropped in the midst of territory controlled by the Golden Dragons, a drug cartel who think the band of actors are D.E.A. agents.

What happens next is pretty predictable. The band splits up, with Speedman insisting that this is a movie set and the helicopter is one way and the rest of the crew going the other. Speedman is captured and taken to the headquarters of the drug cartel. The rest of the group finds him by accident.

Meanwhile, the special effects guy and Tayback go looking for the Cockburn and the band, finding only the site of the explosion and the walkie-talkie.

At the drug cartel HQ, Speedman is recognized as the lead in Simple Jack. Turns out it's the cartel's favorite movie and they want him to reprise his role. In turn, Speedman re-evaluates his life and decides to "adopt" a cute little toddler living at the compound.

Has the movie taken a turn toward the Serious and Introspective?

C'mon! This is Ben Stiller!

Tropic Thunder is rude and crude. The "F-word" is used liberally. Ben Stiller uses a sledge hammer to make his point about race, sex, drugs, and Hollywood.

I found myself laughing out loud. Several times.

The actors look like they were having fun on the set (I'd love to see the outtakes--this was filmed in Kau'i). Lots of cameos by different actors who played off their public personas. Nothing is sacred; no one is safe.

Did Tropic Thunder deserve an R rating? Yes, due to language, over-the-top violence, and portrayals of drug use (although those were not sympathetic--Jeff Portnoy is shown as being out-of-control). Although there are no scenes of explicit sex, there is much discussion about it, usually at the "locker room" level.

Overall, I enjoyed the movie, though I wouldn't rank it as a "must see." DD#2 enjoyed it as well, although I'm glad she's not any younger.


crossposted at Catholic Media Review

Quote of the Month

Live your life so that when you put your feet down on the floor in the morning, Satan says,
"Oh, CRAP! She's awake!"

(Change the pronoun for males. :)

Prayers Requested...

First for Anthony, whose battling cancer and having bad reactions to the medication. Anthony was one of the first friends DS#2 made when he moved to a new high school his sophomore year. Anthony is short; DS#2 is tall. Anthony is extremely smart and articulate; DS#2 is more laid back and often struggles to put his thoughts into words.

After conquering cancer in grade school, it came back last year. On top of that, Anthony had a bad reaction to the medication and spent most of the school year in the hospital. He did make it to Junior Prom. Bald, but in a tux and with a date.

Now, his senior year, he's moving to a medical facility in San Diego (about 500 miles south of us) to try and beat this thing. Those of you who have had kids graduate from high school understand how difficult it will be for Anthony to move away and miss all the fun and excitement of the last year in high school. DS#2 will miss him as well, even though they keep in touch electronically.

My second request is for Corrinne, who is battling pneumonia and a bacterial infection that has affected her heart. Her doctors don't think there is any damage, but they are not sure. Corrinne is an amazing woman and the linchpin of our local Girl Scout neighborhood as a Girl Scout leader, Day Camp Director, and Neighborhood Chair. Oh, and she doesn't have any children of her own.

Book Review: A Pocket Guide to the Bible

Written by Scott Hahn, this Guide is part of a series of Pocket Guides published by Our Sunday Visitor Publishing Division. And this Guide truly is pocket-sized.

First is a short explanation of what the Bible is: the Word of God in human words. Mr. Hahn then discusses the organization of the Bible into the Old and the New Testaments, who wrote the Bible (meaning the human authors--he notes right off that God is the Author), how the different books were chosen to be included--and why the Jewish Old Testament and the Protestant Bibles are different from the Catholic Bible--finishing the first section with the relationship between the Bible and the Church.

Mr. Hahn next discusses how to understand the Bible. The Bible is literature and can be read that way, but it contains many different types of genres. There are the stories, the history, the laws, the census count, the poems, the advice column, the letters, and the prophecies. I especially liked Mr. Hahn's explanation that the Bible is the history of our salvation and can be seen as a series of covenants between God and humanity, beginning with Adam and ending with the New Covenant through Jesus Christ. I had never thought of the Bible that way before, but it makes great sense.

There is a section about reading programs, specifically mentioning three: reading straight through, following the Lectionary, or reading your favorite stories. It really doesn't matter which one(s) you choose. The important thing is to read the Bible.

The longest chapter covers all the different books of the Bible with a brief synopsis of what each book covers. The last chapter is titled "Where to Find..." and then has several sections with the corresponding book, chapter, and verse. Mr. Hahn includes the Mysteries of the Rosary and the Liturgy of the Mass in this section, which is handy for apologetics. I also find this type of listing useful because Catholics don't place as much emphasis on quoting chapter-and-verse as some of our Protestant brethren do. Often I know there's a section dealing with the subject under discussion in the Bible; I just don't quite remember where. "Where to Find..." will help.

(BTW, I think it's more important to read the Bible and understand it as a whole than to memorize bits and pieces. The difference in emphasis might be why many Protestants think that Catholics "don't read the Bible." --Ed.)

Mr. Hahn manages to cram an awful lot of information into 79 pages the size of a quarter-sheet of paper. The language is simply, the size is not intimidating--this Guide would be excellent for Middle School and High School faith formation classes, such as Confirmation. In fact, DD#2 (a sophomore in high school) will be starting her second year of Confirmation preparation soon and I'm going to "test" this Guide out with her as well as share it with our parish Youth Minister. But I'm going to buy another copy--I'm keeping this one next to my Bible!

On the March Hare scale: 5 out 5 Golden Bookmarks

This review was written as part of The Catholic Company product reviewer program. Visit The Catholic Company to find more information on A Pocket Guide to the Bible.

(cross-posted at Catholic Media Review)

Guilty Pleasures--Olympic Version

Yes, I know China has a horrid human rights record. I know that they are trying to destroy the people and the culture of Tibet. I know their environmental record is abysmal. I also know that winning is a cultural obsession.

Still, I'm enjoying the Olympics.

The Olympics is the only time women's sports get significant air time. The first set last night between the U.S. Beach Volleyball team and the underdog team from Belgium was a nailbiter. Would Misty and Kerri actually lose? The set went to 24 points before the American team won.

(By the way, has anyone else noticed that, with the exception of swimming, the women's competitive uniforms seem to be getting smaller? While the men wear big, floppy shirts and shorts?)

DD#2, just returned home from Japan, was watching the women's volleyball match between the U.S. and Japan. She was at an International Jamboree in Japan during the opening days of the Olympics, so had some catching up. She was able to watch some events with her Japanese host family--like the volleyball match between Japan and Argentina. Oddly enough (!), the Japanese Olympic broadcast was not all Michael Phelps all the time. (Not to detract from Mr. Phelps--he is truly amazing to watch. But I do want to stuff a Speedo in the mouth of the commentators.)

She cheered when the U.S. team missed a difficult shot. "I'm rooting for the Japanese," she stated matter-of-factly.

"I thought you would," I answered.

I rooted for the Korean who won that country's first gold in swimming. I enjoy watching talented athletes from smaller countries pull off upsets. There's something so... I don't know... American about rooting for the underdog. And I enjoyed watching the women's individual saber fencing finals. We had a lively family discussion about what the scoring rules were.

I still want Michael Phelps to break records. :)

My favorite moment of the Olympics is the Parade of Nations at the Opening and the Closing. Because I've worked in the shipping business, I've got a pretty fair idea of where most of the countries are geographically and I've worked with citizens of several of them. I especially enjoy looking at the native dress. And the fact that, for a change, the U.S. women did not have the most tacky attire--that award goes to Hungary. (Sorry, Hungary!)

Am I surprised there is controversy? No. Olympics and controversy seem to be synonymous. Am I surprised that the IOC and the various international sporting federations are doing nothing? No. I mean, really, this is the body who accused the U.S. women swimmers of being "bad sports" when they complained there was something odd about the East German women back in the '70's. And has not apologized when it was revealed that the East Germans were using steroids.

The Swiss are the premier men's beach volleyball team in the world? Really? Who would have thunk it?

And then there are the personal stories. Lopez Lomong, the flag bearer for the U.S., was one of the "lost boys" from Sudan, kidnapped from his family, adopted from a refugee camp. He watched the Olympics in Sydney and became inspired.

And now he's an Olympic athlete. In Beijing. Capital of the country that helped bankroll the strife in Lopez's native country. The irony makes me smile. No overt protest. Just a subtle dig.

And I just heard that Lopez has been reunited with his birth parents who had no idea he was still alive. That's really good news.

So I'm addicted. The T.V. is tuned to NBC and I'm watching whatever they're showing. I have my favorites--swimming, crew, gymnastics, volleyball--but I'll watch anything that's on. Really.

And, yes, I'm the same way about the Winter Olympics

Book Review: 1776

David McCullough begins 1776 on October 26, 1775. His Royal Majesty, George III, is addressing the opening of Parliament on "the increasingly distressing issue of war in America." The King and Parliament see the war as rebellion. The Americans, in contrast, really do not want to be independent from Britain. Rather, they want their rights as Englishmen to be recognized. They want representation. They want their concerns heard. The idea of independence has been whispered, but has not yet taken hold.

The year 1776 proves to be a pivotal year. By July, independence from Britain is declared and those who sign the formal Declaration fully understand the cost. The American "rabble" have proven themselves equal to the British Army, then the finest in the world, on several occasions. But they also have made serious strategic mistakes and, but for the grace of Providence, the rebellion could have been over in a year. And these men and women do believe the hand of God is guiding their affairs.

Mr. McCullough uses many primary sources: letters, journals, memoirs. But he includes not only those of the famous men and women--Washington, John Adams, Nathanael Greene, Henry Knox--but those of the common soldier, the ordinary men who left home, their fifteen-year-old sons who joined them, the twelve-year-old drummer boys and fifers. We read the frustration of Washington who pleads for money from the Continental Congress, who is unsure of what the British Army and Navy are planning, who waits almost too long before evacuating Brooklyn Heights, who plans an audacious raid on Trenton and succeeds. The British generals and admirals underestimate the courage and tenacity of the common American; still, had the weather cooperated or had they been a bit bolder, the British would have defeated the colonials.

At the end of year, Washington has learned much. Still the war doesn't end until 1783 and the Treaty of Paris, six and a half years later--a fact we present-day Americans tend to forget.

The Revolutionary War also laid the foundation for the "American character." Washington was a self-educated man, a fact that he felt keenly, especially among the Virgina aristocracy. But he had tremendous strength of character: whatever doubts or misgivings he had, he kept private. He also promoted men of talent, no matter their age, experience, or station in life. He inspired tremendous loyalty which held the Continental Army together through defeat and privation. He was also a consummate politician and established the tradition of civilian oversight of the Army.

Washington also learned from his mistakes. And he made plenty of them--another fact we tend to forget. Wars never go as planned.

France and the Netherlands offered financial assistance as well as troops and ships to the young American colonies, but only after it seemed that the Americans might win.

Mr. McCullough's decision to concentrate on one year--and to focus on the military battles, rather than the political ones--keeps the narrative from being overwhelmed. Using primary sources from those in the trenches as well as the generals brings an immediacy and intimacy that is often lacking in standard history texts. I find Mr. McCullough's style easy to read and absorbing (although I wish he had included modern maps of the battle fields as well as the contemporary ones drawn by the British and American armies). 1776 might not be your typical "beach book," but it's not your dry history tome, either.

Most importantly, this book reminds us of the cost of our freedom from Britain. The Declaration of Independence was paid for in blood and in the personal fortunes of many of those we now consider patriots. Families were torn apart, with many Loyalists fleeing to England, leaving behind their friends, family members, livelihoods, property. The cost in lives equaled 1% of the population, a figure that would not be exceeded until the Civil War.

In my not-so-humble-opinion, 1776 should be required reading for every high school student taking U.S. History.

On the March Hare scale: 5 out of 5 Golden Bookmarks

crossposted at Catholic Media Review

My "Olympic" Moment

This morning I took DD#2 to San Francisco International Airport. She's off to Japan, again, to participate in an International Camporee sponsored by the Osaka Girl Scout Council to celebrate their 60th Anniversary. She is one of three girls and one adult representing the U.S. at this event, along with 900 Japanese Girl Scouts and 45 Girl Guides/Girl Scouts from other countries. Last year we went together as part of an exchange program; this year, I'm staying home. She was excited and a little nervous--just like I was.

Did I mention she's only 15?

While we're waiting for the rest of the group, we check out fellow travelers in the International Terminal. There is a large group of young women wearing light blue warm-up jackets with "USA" on the back. Their luggage consists of various boxes and bags, including navy blue daypacks with red trim, bearing the Speedo brand name and USA embroidered in white.

"I bet they're going to the Olympics," I said.

"What event?" DD#2 answered.

"Swimming?" I guessed. Okay, the Speedo logo was a giveaway.

We had walked over to cases of Victorian majolica ceramicware on display in the concourse since we had time to spare. On our way back to our meeting spot, I noticed that one of the young women had a navy blue jacket that said "Synchro" on it.

"They're the Olympic Synchronized Swim Team," I said.

"How do you know?" DD#2 was a bit impressed until I told her about the jacket.

We watched them for a bit and I have to admit, both DD#2 and I were a bit starstruck. I mean, real Olympic athletes were only about 100 feet away! "Take a picture," I suggested, thinking she would take a picture from where we were standing.

But DD#2 surprised me. She took out her camera, walked over to the group and asked the coach (a woman my age) if she could take a picture. And confirmed that, yes, this was the Synchronized Swim Team. The coach suggested DD#2 wait until all the team members were there. When everyone had arrived, the group gathered for pictures (there were several proud parents and friends to see them off) and DD#2 got her picture. (I was watching her luggage.) Unfortunately, I didn't think to take one with my cell phone, so her picture is currently in Japan.
We did notice one piece of the Synchronized Team's luggage bore a tag that read "Too Heavy to Steal." And they didn't wait in the usual baggage check line.

Later, when the group walked to Security someone started to chant "U-S-A!" And there was a round of applause as they passed by. I said, "Good luck, ladies!" and one team member said, "Thanks!" They looked excited and giddy and happy--just as young adults off to the Olympics should look.

So I'll be watching the Synchronized Swimming competition with more than my usual interest and DD#2 asked that we record it for her, in case she's not home.

For those who think Synchronized Swimming is not a "real" sport, I beg to differ. I took Synchro for PE in college. Not only did I build up my arm strength--almost every move uses only your arms--but I had to remember to point my toes, move to the beat of the music, and smile at the same time. I gained new appreciation for the sport and it wasn't nearly as demanding as it is now.

Another Week in Paradise

Saturday afternoon I returned from a week at Girl Scout camp where I volunteered to be a counselor to a group of 11-13 y.o. girls. I really enjoy this age--especially when I'm not related to them! They're in the process of discovering who they are, so they are "trying on" different personalities and interests. As "not-the-mom," I enjoy it. I'm not invested in their grades or how well they're doing in soccer or swimming or dance. I can appreciate them for who they are and who they are becoming.

Of course, there's drama. Of course, they are irresponsible and I often feel that I must repeat each instruction individually to each girl. On the other hand, most of these girls have been away from home before and most of them have been to this particular camp. So they are familiar with the lack of amenities and the idea that they have camp wide chores to do--like "hopping." ("Hoppers" set the tables, get the food and drinks for the table, get seconds when needed, bus the tables after the meal, wipe off the table, and sweep the dining hall floor. And they also chose which Grace the camp will sing.) They also have to clean the shared bathroom and at least once during the week, clean up their tents.

They were surprised when I announced tent clean-up and sleeping bag airing, especially when I said, "I know that your duffel bags have exploded everywhere. I want you to find all your underwear and all your socks now." One camper asked me, "How did you know?"

Because I'm a mom of four and an experienced counselor.

This year I was really fortunate to work with five amazing women. We complemented each other well and we all had a rather wicked sense of humor. This was especially amazing since three of us, including me, caught the "camp crud" that was going around and were laid low for several days. (I still have a pretty nasty cough.) I was looking forward to kayaking in the slough, but decided to conserve my strength for the drive back to camp.

But I did get my "dirt" fix. And my beach fix. And my campfire and s'more fix. I didn't get to sing much because of the crud, but I enjoyed the music and the skits and the dancing and the general craziness that goes on at camp. My biggest triumph: I made one very solemn girl smile. It took me all week to do it and it was a small smile, but I'm counting it!

DD#2 opted not to come to camp with me but work at our local GS Day Camp instead. She's a "junior counselor" this year, assigned to work with an adult counselor with whom both DD#1 and I have worked. Tomorrow is the Family Dinner & Campfire--I can't wait to get the report on how she did! It was kind of nice going to camp on my own, although I did have some worries about how the family would manage to get everyone where they needed to be while I was gone. They managed. DS#2 has even been cleaning the living room/family room/craft area slowly but surely. He wants to have a party--great motivation!

Book Review: The Time Traveler's Wife

Six-year-old Clare Anne Abshire is in The Meadow, an isolated area behind her family home, when a naked man suddenly appears. He asks for the beach towel she is using and she gives it to him. He introduces himself: he is Henry DeTamble. Clare does not know him but Henry knows her because he is her husband in the future.

Henry has a problem: he is a Time Traveler. In times of stress, he returns to important scenes or places in his life. He can't control his comings and goings and he can't bring anything backward with him (which means he always arrives at his location naked--a problem in the winter). Clare is normal, living her life one day at a time in sequence. This causes some unusual problems in their relationship. In the beginning, Henry knows about her future; later, she knows what will happen to him before he does. For example, when Clare finally meets Henry in her present, she is 20 and he is 28. She recognizes him from her past. He hasn't met her yet and doesn't realize that she will become his wife.

And there are paradoxes. Older Henry often visits his younger self, acting as a mentor, teaching him how to survive in the time he's in until he jumps back to his current present. And when he visits events that are personally traumatic, like the death of his mother, there is nothing Henry can do to prevent it.

Audrey Niffenegger does an excellent job keeping all this straight. She tells the story both from the point of view of Clare and of Henry, noting the relative ages of each (or of each Henry if the scene is one where Henry meets himself) at the top of the each section. Henry's problem causes peculiar difficulties not only for him but also for his relationship with Clare and with others in his life: his friends, his co-workers. Henry and Clare search for a cure or a way to control his jumping. And Clare desperately wants a child. Theirs is not a fairy tale life, although perhaps their jobs are (Clare is an artist, Henry works at a rare book library).

The Time Traveler's Wife is a romance and a science fiction novel, albeit "soft" science fiction (Henry's ability to time travel is given only a cursory explanation). Still, they are a team and they remain faithful to each other through it all.

As a side note: Clare is Catholic, or has been raised Catholic and I believe Henry is Jewish. However, except for a scene at Midnight Mass and their wedding, religion is not discussed. Henry is agnostic or atheist; Clare does not seem to practice her religion at all. I think Ms. Niffenegger missed an interesting opportunity here.

DD#1 (who is 21) also enjoyed the story. We both liked it better than The Secret Life of Bees. An excellent vacation book.

On the March Hare scale: 4 out of 5 Golden Bookmarks

crossposted at Catholic Media Review

Movie Review: WALL*E

The folks at Pixar have done it again. WALL*E is a work of art, both technically and as a story.

But first, the short!

Like the short in Ratatouille, this short has no dialogue. It does, however, involve a rabbit, a carrot, a magician, and two magic hats. The rabbit is a cute, white bunny who is definitely not shy or retiring. He knows what he wants and he's going to get it.

The magician, on the other hand, has an act to perform.

Whomever wrote this short was definitely a Warner Brothers fan. There's more than a little Bugs Bunny here! In fact, at one point the orchestra breaks into a song I know was used in a Bugs and Elmer episode.

I like Pixar's tradition of opening the movie with a short (shades of my childhood when every Disney film was a double feature-plus-short) and I hope they consider releasing the shorts on a DVD at some point.

Okay, on to the main feature.

Much has been written about the storyline of WALL*E in other reviews. And strong stories are a Pixar trademark. So I'm going to spend a little more time on the ambiance of the movie.

It opens with a song from Hello, Dolly! Cornelius is telling Barnaby there's a whole world out there beyond Yonkers and breaks into the song, Put on Your Sunday Clothes. That song and one other, Dancing, serve as touchpoints, appearing at significant moments in the film.

With eyes shaped like binoculars and a body that's basically a metal box, WALL*E is no mere machine. Although his job is to compact trash into blocks and then stack it into tall, imposing structures, he also collects odd objects: a garbage can lid, rubber duckies, a Rubik's cube. And he has a pet. ten minutes in (or less), I forgot I was watching an animated feature. WALL*E is a character, with personality and feelings.

The humans don't appear until more than halfway through the film, and--with one interesting exception--they definitely look animated. But it looks like a deliberate choice and isn't jarring. (John Ratzenberger keeps up his string of voicing characters, by the way.)

The other major character is another robot: EVE. For much of the movie, she's an egg, but as the action unfolds, she develops a full-fledged persona.

There are a lot of references to pop culture as well: the Blue Danube Waltz plays at an appropriate time and there is a steward robot named "Gofer." I probably missed as much as I caught--which means we're going to have to buy the DVD and watch it again. :)

Hubs and I saw this at a Sunday afternoon matinee and there were plenty of kids in the audience. However, during the climax, the theater was dead quiet. Not easy to do, but Pixar did it, just like the best Disney movies do. The technical quality of the film is amazing, combining some "live action" with animation seamlessly. It all fit. The character voices didn't overwhelm the animated characters (a pet peeve of mine with Dreamworks animations), but complemented them.

Yes, there is a social message. But I thought the message didn't overwhelm the story and the ending was hopeful and uplifting.

For the ending credits, Pixar used several different styles of art, from cave dwellings to Egyptian hieroglyphics to Impressionism to Van Gogh--kind of a mini art history. I wouldn't have caught it unless the woman behind me mentioned it to her son. I thought it was rather clever.

On the March Hare scale: 5 out of 5 Golden Tickets

crossposted at Catholic Media Review

Optimism--Now!

Last weekend I was at a gathering of poets for a Board Meeting of a local poetry circle. We were discussing what to do about some stock that the group was recently given, whose price has been dropping rather dramatically over the last few months.

All of these people are liberals.

Most of them are upper-middle class. Most of them are retired.

When one member said, "I think we'll see a change in November, an increased optimism," I knew he fully expected Obama Barack to be elected as the next President.

When one member talked about the "recession we're in," I pointed out that, by definition, we're not.

"You don't think we are?" he asked, surprised.

Not wishing to get into a big debate about it, I shrugged it off.

How can these otherwise intelligent people see that, overall, life is actually pretty good? Home prices are down, but many of those prices were overinflated. Teachers and police officers and firefighters can now afford to buy homes in the communities where they work. Isn't that a good thing? Home ownership is the highest it has ever been and 94% of mortgage holders are not in default and not late with their payments. Unemployment is still historically low (although I've now got two brothers looking for jobs).

Yes, gas and oil is expensive. But, if you factor in inflation, the price of gasoline should be around $3.00/gallon anyway. Last year, gasoline was actually cheaper than it was during the 1970's.

Does anyone remember the '70's? I graduated from U.C. Berkeley in 1975 with a degree in biology and I was competing with Ph.D candidates from Stanford for lab jobs that were basically washing dishes. Oil prices were all over the place and changing daily. We had odd/even rationing with stern warnings "not to top off" our tanks. But we did anyway because the gas station may have run out by the time our day came. Home mortgages were 13-14% and many experts predicted the days of single-digit rates was over.

Does this economy look anything like that?

Iraq seems to be stabilizing, North Korea--under pressure from China--may be coming to its senses, plots by terrorists to play havoc in Europe seem to be discovered every day, fortunately before they are carried out.

There are many reasons to be optimistic now. Why wait until November? And why would the election of a man who has limited experience (Caroline, take note: even your father had more legislative experience than Mr. Obama) and whose philosophies and friendships change with the polls (did he study at the feet of Bill?) bring optimism? I haven't been impressed by the knowledge, skill, or finesse of his advisors now--I should be optimistic about his potential Cabinet appointments? He guessed wrong on the constitutionality of the D.C. gun ban law--and he's going to appoint judges?

The worrisome part is these fellow poets mean well. They really, truly want a Utopian Society, where there is no strife, no want, no disease. Ironically, without challenges there would be no poetry, no art. They don't seem to recognize that. But it seems so self-evident to me that I'm not sure how I can (if I can) change their point of view.

And The Message Is?

I'm supposed to be 40 miles away from here at a Girl Scout camp near the coast. I'm supposed to be at a mandatory Staff Training weekend. Instead I'm in bed with my computer, waiting for Hubs to come home from Boy Scout camp with DS#2 and DD#2.

Last night I made the fateful decision to take the small car to training instead of the van. The small car gets better gas mileage and, frankly, I prefer driving it. I loaded up my gear, gassed up (and noted that I'm getting 32 mpg--YES!), and headed off. Because of the fog and smoke, I had my headlights on.

The first weird thing I noticed: I couldn't see my headlights reflected in the back of the car in front of me.

The second weird thing: my radio cut out.

Okay, I figured a wire had come loose somewhere. It has happened before and normally I just have to jiggle a wire to get everything cooking again. Only the Bay Bridge is not exactly the place to do this. Nor is I-80 heading through The City. But when I took the exit to get to Highway 1 and the coast, I began to lose power. I exited and ended up in my old home town.

So I called AAA. My cell phone wouldn't connect. I had juice, I had bars, I couldn't ring anyone. Below me was a shopping mall. I went off in search of a pay phone. Inside there was a cell phone kiosk for my particular carrier.

"Can you take a look at this?" I asked. The young gentleman complied. He informed me that they had upgraded their SIM chips recently and that perhaps that was a problem. I was eligible for an upgraded phone. Did I want to do that?

Uh, no. I do want a new phone, and I know which one I want, but I'm not ready to get it yet. Especially if I'm going to have another repair bill.

Well, there wasn't anything he could do, so I set off in search of a pay phone. Found one and did the only logical thing I could do: called Mom. The connection was horrible, but I finally got her to understand what the problem was. I gave her the number of the pay phone and then I waited. She ended up calling BIL#2 who called me...on my cell phone. Mirable dictu! Whatever the guy in the kiosk did while he was poking around the innards of my phone, it worked.

I keep jumper cables in my car because this one does not have a reminder chime if I leave my headlights on. Consequently, I've done that more than once, so now I carry cables. BIL#2 gave me a jump, then followed me to Mom's house. DD#1 was home and came over to pick me up because I didn't trust the car to make it either to home or to Camp.

It's either the alternator or the battery because it doesn't seem to be holding a charge.

Our van is home. I could have taken the van and driven down to Camp this morning (or really late last night) and then dealt with my car on Sunday. Hubs is due home this afternoon, probably around five or six o'clock. He should be receiving a text message to call me once he gets cell phone reception himself. And there's probably nothing we can do about it tonight.

On the other hand, maybe there is. Or we can get an early start on the problem tomorrow--because there's no cell phone reception at the Girl Scout camp either. (I called the Camp Director and left the abbreviated version of the problem on her voice mail.)

So... which decision was better? Was I supposed to make a heroic effort to get to Camp Training? I hate missing it because this is where we meet fellow staff members and plan our events and activities for the week. We get a feeling of the strengths, weaknesses, and overall philosophies of the women we're going to be living with for ten days. I'm going to be going in "blind," as it were.

On the other hand, come Monday, I need my car. (I've also noticed that next weekend is a "make up" weekend. We had talked about going to visit Hubs' family, though. Which I don't really mind if I miss. But I feel guilty about sending him up there with the kids by himself. Unfortunately, visiting his family falls into the category of "duty visit" rather than pleasure.)

At least the car broke down in familiar territory. If I had called AAA, I might have tried to get to camp and have broken down in the middle of nowhere. I was safe, the car was safe, and my mom gets the benefit of having a car in her driveway for a couple of days, discouraging the neighbors from parking there. And I got to spend time talking with DD#1, discussing philosophy and life and plans. She's an interesting young adult and we don't often get time alone together. I worry about that. I worry about her, although she doesn't like the fact that I do. (I'm a mom--what can I say?)

I know God often has to use a "clue-by-four" to get my attention. If this was one, it was a dandy! On the other hand, the car is 18 years old and has over 180,000 miles on it. Breaking down at inconvenient times is what older cars do.

Guess I'll have to wait and see...

Remembering George Carlin

I first noticed George Carlin back in high school in the late 1960's-early 1970's. He was the "Hippy Dippy Weatherman," the "Stupid Disc Jockey," and the cousin of one of my classmates. Of course I didn't hear his routine about "The 7 Words You Can't Say on Television" until much later, when I was an adult and married and we had HBO. I remember thinking it was raunchy and outrageous and funny.

Then there was his routine about "Stuff." Hubs and I had just bought our first house and were in the process of consolidating our old "Stuff" and accumulating new "Stuff" (a process which hasn't stopped). His routine about the differences between baseball and football was dead on, even though I'm more of a football fan, myself. I loved the way he "ran home."

I'm not surprised to hear that he had issues with the Catholic Church. Most comedians of his era had problems with authority of any stripe and, of course, God is the Ultimate Authority. I was a bit surprised to hear he'd been married only twice--his first wife died of cancer. So however misanthropic and nihilistic his public persona was, he must have been different in private. I think some of that private persona came through in Jersey Girl, where he plays the gruff-but-loving father and grandfather. (I found it interesting that the granddaughter goes to Catholic School, although the family is never seen going to Mass.)

As for Carlin's anti-Catholicism... Personally, I thought his turn as the cardinal in Dogma was funny. The cardinal is trying to re-market the Catholic Church by introducing "The Buddy Jesus" and making the Church "hipper" and "more relevant." His character reminded me a lot of the early-post Vatican II days, exaggerated for comedic effect. And Carlin played it, I thought, like someone who had been raised in the Church, who knew about the dashboard Jesus and St. Christopher medals and who wanted to skewer that kind of obsession with symbols. Was it more vicious than that? Possibly. But I hadn't seen any of Carlin's recent stand-up routines or interviews, so I don't know.

In fact, I haven't kept up with George Carlin in recent years. He was not a comedian I sought out, whose routines I listened to regularly. Until I read the tributes to him, I didn't realize he was still doing stand-up and that so much of it was angry. But he was part the milieu of my adolescence--his death is another reminder that I'm getting old.

R.I.P, George.

crossposted at Catholic Media Review

Book Review: The Secret Life of Bees/The Mermaid Chair

Sue Monk Kidd has a way with words, evoking scenes and smells, drawing idiosyncratic characters who seem perfectly plausible. Her writing style reminds me a lot of Pat Conroy's--if she's not a native Southerner, she's one who loves it all, the people, the land, the food.

The Secret Life of Bees is her debut novel. The main character is Lily Owen, whose life has been defined by the death of her mother. Lily was four when she accidentally shot her mother who was having an argument with her husband, Lily's father. Lily's father, whom she calls T. Ray, seems indifferent to Lily, leaving her in the care of Rosaleen, a black woman he's pulled out of his peach orchard.

Lily has found a box containing a few items that belonged to her mother. One is a picture of a Black Madonna, with the words "Tiburon, South Carolina" written on the back. When Rosaleen runs into trouble on the way to register to vote (it's 1964), Lily springs her from the hospital and they run away and they head to Tiburon. On her way in to town, she finds the Black Madonna--it's a label on a jar of honey, made by a local beekeeper, August. August (who is also black) lives with her two younger sisters, June and May. She lies her way into staying with the sisters, learning about bees and "The Daughters of Mary," the religion the sisters practice revolving around the Virgin Mary. Coincidentally, Lily also receives the mothering she needs and Rosaleen finds a place for herself as well.

Of course, the idyll cannot last. Lily is a white girl living in a black household and her father has no idea where she is. The situation comes to a head and Lily learns about her mother, her father, and herself.

Unfortunately, the ending is implausible and a disappointment. (Interestingly, DD#1 had the same reaction, but phrased it much more elegantly: "Ms. Kidd is a good writer but not much of a storyteller.) I enjoyed the book in kind of a lazy, laid-back way. It's a good summer read: pleasurable, but not enthralling.

The Mermaid Chair is another novel. Also set in South Carolina. This novel has more overtly Catholic themes, involving a saints, monks, and women. Jessie has been married to Hugh for 20 years. Their daughter, Dee, is off to college. Jessie is feeling restless, but doesn't know why. She has learned to live in "the smallest space possible." Then she gets word that her mother has chopped off her right index finger. Jessie returns home to Egret Island, to her mother and her mother's best friends, Kat and Hepzibah. And to the Monastery of St. Senara, home of the Mermaid Chair.

And home to Brother Thomas, who, in his previous life, was an environmental lawyer, happily married and expecting his first child, when his wife and their unborn child were killed in a car accident. Father Sebastian, the monastery prior, suspects that Brother Thomas is running away from life. Father Dominic has written the story of the Mermaid Chair which Kat sells to tourists in her store, The Mermaid's Tale.

Because the island is small, all the characters are intertwined. Brother Thomas and Jessie feel a strong attraction, a deep connection. And the island itself--its heat, its mud, its tides--is as much a character as the people involved.

Again, though, lyrical writing but weak story, especially the ending. Both The Mermaid Chair and The Secret Life of Bees have a lot of detail about Catholic traditions, but apparently Ms. Kidd was a Southern Baptist. Before writing novels, she was known for her writing about spiritual matters, including her journey to the "sacred feminine." Her novels reflect her world view.

On the March Hare scale: 3 out of 5 Golden Bookmarks overall. Fine summer reading, not too mentally challenging, but not enough of a guilty pleasure either.

crossposted at Catholic Media Review

Summer Intermezzo

My internal alarm clock woke me up, even though I stayed up late watching Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix last night. Not only do I have no children to hustle off to school, I have no Hubs either: he and DS#2 and DD#2 are at Boy Scout camp this week as part of our Troop and our new Venture Crew. The Venture program is co-ed, which is why DD#2 can go. I have mixed feelings about that, but the camp fee for a new unit is incredibly cheap. And I am the type of parent who is always pushing her children to stretch their wings, try something new, be outdoors.

While they are gone the remote is mine and the television has mostly been off. I can read when I want, eat when (and what) I want, and write without fear that someone will walk in wondering, "Whatca doin'?", startling my Muse, causing her to flee.

This is an amazing freedom.

DS#1 is in his college town, in his apartment, having found a summer internship there. DD#2 is working and taking two classes at community college--she decided that since she's been there so long, she might as well get her AA. Later this summer and early in the Fall, the intensity will begin as both DS#2 and DD#1 apply for universities and colleges. She will probably get in; he probably will not. (DS#2 is smart enough; just not book-smart. He's people smart, but California state universities and colleges do not have personal interviews.)

The house is very quiet, especially at night. The Dog is lonely, although since there is only one human around, the decision where to sit is much easier for her: wherever I am. The cats only find me if they need to be fed or decide they want a lap.

The last week was hot, but the fog has come in and temperatures are returning to summer norms. The hills are August-dry, so there are several grass-and-brush fires around the Bay Area, tinging the fog a reddish-brown and leaving the faint smell of smoke in the air. If the burns are small enough to control, the local fire departments let them burn out to prevent larger, more serious fires. These fires rarely make the news--a burnt scar on the hillside tells the tale. The Fourth of July weekend will be a concern: more fireworks, more alcohol, more open campfires as people take to the mountains and lakes. Better to burn now.

The birds are singing. I can hear the traffic from the freeway. It sounds like it's going to be warm today. My bedroom window is open, but I'm not cold. I'll need a jacket for BART, but I'll park in the shade so I'll be able to touch the steering wheel of my car this afternoon without burning my fingers. I have to remember to stop by the cleaners and pick up my dress and DS#2's tuxedo. My schedule at work is light, but I never know.

I've read three books--novels--that I hope to review this evening. Summer novels, although one has left me feeling nostalgic and a little sad. Maybe wistful?

Now it's time to get up, take a shower, get dressed, and face the day. Put on my "game" face, my "career woman" persona.

Carpe diem!

What the Frack???

So last night was the cliffhanger episode of Battlestar Galactica. I thought that this was the last season, but, apparently, there is a new definition of "season." Because the resolution of this cliffhanger won't be aired until January 2009.

In the parlance of BG, what the frack???

If you haven't seen it, I won't spoil it, but I do have a general question.

Here, the child of Helo & Athena, is important because she is a hybrid--half human, half Cylon. But the Chief's (Galen's) son is also a hybrid, although no one realized that one of his parents is a Cylon--including that parent. Why isn't he as important as Hera?

Well, to help tide me over until January, SciFi Channel is bringing back Eureka! This series is about a quirky town of geniuses, hidden in Northern California (I think)--"Area 51 only wishes they had our security." The only non-genius is U.S. Marshall John Carter (an homage to Edgar Rice Burroughs Mars novels?), who is now the sheriff. He may not be a genius, but he has common sense.

I love the characters in this town and the oddball problems they get into. The characters are well-developed and there are gizmos and gadgets galore. I got DS#2 hooked on this. It's a great summer series (the new season starts the end of July). I'm not sure if Season 1 and 2 are out on DVD yet, but SciFi Channel does show some episodes on the web--maybe they have some old ones available.

crossposted on Catholic Media Review

Book Review: Good Omens

The complete title of this book is Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. This is a joint effort by Neil Gaiman (Stardust) and Terry Pratchett (Discworld series). Which means it's hysterically funny, but you can't explain to anyone why you're laughing out loud without reading several pages to explain the set up.

It's also the kind of book where a complete stranger, who noticed I was reading this on BART, said, "Great book! You'll enjoy it!" Book recommendations don't come any more spontaneous than that.

The story is about Armageddon. A demon, Crowley, and an angel, Aziraphale, who have been on Earth since The Fall of Adam and Eve, aren't really too keen to have this happen. They've grown rather fond of this planet and its inhabitants, along with wine, classic Bentleys, well-cut suits, and books. But the Anti-Christ is born and the Hound of Hell has been unleashed, so what can they do?

Meanwhile, there is a book, with Agnes Nutter's prophecies, currently in the possession of Agnes's direct descendant, Anathema. The "Nice" in the title refers to the original meaning of the word: precise. And Agnes's predictions are accurate and precise--it's just that her relatives have to figure out what she means.

Meanwhile, Newton Pulsifer, answers a rather strange ad in the local paper in an attempt to add some drama to his life. He finds himself in an odd kind of Army of two, where his main job is going through newspapers looking for odd happenings.

The Four Horsemen appear, but their "horses" don't have four feet.

There is much British humor, which Gaiman & Pratchett explain to Americans with helpful footnotes, although access to the Internet for British history and folklore was also useful to me.

The tone is, of course, entirely irreverent, especially towards the end. Can any of God's creatures truly know what He wants?

In the afterword, Gaiman & Pratchett discuss their collaboration. They talk about signing copies of this book that are swollen from having been dropped in the bath, taped together with massive amounts of duct tape, and talking to fans who keep purchasing copies because the ones they've lent out don't return home.

I can see why.

This book is not for everyone. But if you enjoy Monty Python, Douglas Adams, or Doctor Who, chances are you'll enjoy Good Omens. It's a great vacation book.

On the March Hare scale: 4.5 out 5 Golden Bookmarks

crossposted at Catholic Media Review

May Is Over; Summer Has Arrived!

I hate the month of May. It's the month when everyone is trying to "finish up" before the end of the school year. This year we survived two Junior Proms, one SAT test (the same day as one of the Proms), a Girl Scout bridging and Silver Award ceremony, a family gathering/reunion/mini-break, an AP Biology test, Back-to-School night, two major term papers, a plagiarism crisis, Boy Scout Camporee, a Girl Scout Leader-Daughter breakfast, the husband of a good friend rushed into by-pass surgery, and a good friend of DS#2 who is in the hospital with an allergic reaction to his cancer meds.

Last week was finals. And the week before was when the rest of the projects were due. DD#2 told us she owes $109.00 because of damage to one of her textbooks. And the weather has been beautiful--shirtsleeve warm during the day, cool enough at night to sleep.

The "marine layer"--aka fog--rolled in on Friday, which was the last day of school. That's the way it usually works around here: beautiful weather the last two weeks of school, followed by ten or twelve weeks of fog, and then several more weeks of great weather in September and October. It wouldn't be a traditional Independence Day without barbecuing with ski jackets on.

Next year, DS#2 will be a Senior. DD#2 will be confirmed. DD#1 will be transferring to a four-year University.

Hubs and I may just go to Disneyland. :)