2 Movie Reviews

I watched 2 movies the past couple of nights that I find "review" worthy.

The first I watched last night, it was called I am David. Decent movie. I was not disappointed in the time put forth in watching it. It is about a boy named David who escapes from a concentration camp with a sack with very little to survive on. Through out the movie there are "instructions" being relayed, for the viewer and a mental reminder for the young boy. The instruction need to be followed by the viewer in order to be made sense of later at the end of the movie. I found the movie to be a personal journey for the boy. A journey of self discovery. He had no idea who he was literally and figuratively. He also needed to discover the world. He grew up in a horrible world, a concentration camp. His idea and views of the world were dark, depressing, and sad. The first time he sees a field of flowers, the smell of fresh baked bread, a warm touch by an old woman, all mark moments of sweetness. The first time he ever smiles is rather touching. He even asks if he had just smiled. I found myself wondering what that must be like, to "wake up". I find the boy having had an awakening to the goodness of life and of people, that there be no need to fear all the time.

The second movie I watched this evening. It was called The Remains of the Day. Waist of 2 hours. I kept waiting for the head butler to have his "awakening" just as David in the previous movie had. But the butler never did. I was rather disappointed. He lived every moment of every day of his entire life for someone else, his Employer. He did not have any thoughts on any matters, or at least he never vocalized them, he never listened to anyone, he never really lived. And to make it all worse, he let a beautiful opportunity of "awakening" slip right through his proper fingers. I must say it did give an excellent view into the life of an old world English butler. Tough job. He was faithful to one person and one person only. What a depressing life to live.

So, I am exhausted I want more than anything to go to sleep right this moment. But my thoughts on these two movies are too much to not put down here on my blog. Which person am I more alike? The young boy or the old man? Well, I am obviously neither seen as I am a woman, but their characters, which would I be. I feel at times that I am the butler, focusing so much on the duties and responsibilities that I let precious life pass right through my fingers. I want so much to be like the young boy, to look at everything and everyone as if it were my first time to ever see them, to taste, to smell, to touch, as if I had never done such in all my life, to cherish each and every moment.

My ending thought is that I should be both, but ultimately the cherishing should take precedence over the duties. So, I suppose I find both worth my time, the movies ended with me having a better understanding of myself.

Pinata

That word looks funny with out the little squiggly thing over the n. Today before leaving for church I was sitting on the couch patiently awaiting the time to leave and Lydia breaks out in song. She makes up some of the funniest and cute songs, actually come to think of it the songs are quite like what an Oompa Loompa might come up with. Improvisation is what Willy Wonka says. I think she must have gotten it from them.

So, she is singing away and I am just giggling and this of course is way too encouraging. It was probably one of her best yet! I will do my best to try and relay the song to you. Don't even ask me the tune that too is made up. Here is the song, keep in mind the song is about me, it will be funnier later at the end.

You are so sweet
You are so delicious
You look so tasty
I want to gobble you up

You look like a pinanna
Full of candy
I want to hit you
Until the candy falls out

By this point I am laughing so hard I have to ask her what on earth a pinanna is. She tells me it is the funny shaped things at birthday parties that you hit and candy comes out. OK, so I explain the proper way to say it. She continues on with her song, singing pretty much the same stuff. Then she comes over to me, here is the finale of the song (I wish I recorded it!), and in slow motion using sound effects and everything, she pretends to swing a stick at me. Using her little fingers she comes to me with little tickle like grabs, pulls "candy" out of my sides and starts gobbling my arms (she uses just her lips, like a horse would, and "gobbles" me up, this is not uncommon for her).

Seriously the most hilarious thing she has ever done! Can I use serious and hilarious in the same sentence?

Romance

What does romance or romantic mean? The subject of romance was on my mind recently and it occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, I have a false or naive, and too girlish of an idea of what it actually means. Here is what I found...

Webster's Eleventh Edition: romance - 1. medieval tale based on legend, chivalric love and adventure, or the supernatural 2. a prose narrative treating imaginary characters involved in heroic, adventurous, or mysterious events 3. a love story in the form of a novel 4. to try to influence by lavishing personal attention, gifts, or flattery.

Those definitions are exactly what I expected romance to be, and it has often made me sad that I don't have that kind of "romance" in my life. Kevin and I recently watched a particular romantic comedy, these are our favorites, and for some odd reason Kevin was in no mood to watch it necessarily with me. We are a rather cuddly couple and enjoy snuggling up to a good movie. But this night in particular, for reasons unknown to me, he refused to sit any where near me. He sat clear on the opposite side of the couch and pouted most of the movie, he even got up and left right before the ending. This was so unusual that I began wondering if it was me. Did I stink? Were my legs too hairy? Was the room too hot to sit close to me? Seriously, these would all be reasonable explanations, but this was not the case that evening.

So, upon finishing this adorable romantic comedy by myself I found myself in deep thought. And none of the thoughts were good. Don't get me wrong, I love my relationship with my husband. But I found myself wondering why I didn't have the romance in my life that is so often reflected in movies. Come on ladies, don't be shy, I know I am not alone in thinking such things. I have always enjoyed romantic movies and novels, not the gross stuff! Sweet love stories like Anne of Green Gables and Little Women and I finally read Pride and Prejudice. All amazing stories where the men all seem to fall over the women and shower them with the most unimaginable flattery! And probably the most recent movie that knocks my socks off in regards to romance is the Notebook. The ending in particular, as badly as I want to ruin it for someone who doesn't know what I am talking about I will not, is enough to make me cry for hours even after the movie has ended! So, I am a pathetic, hopeless romantic.

Now, knowing this great weakness of mine, let me explain the process of my thoughts following the experience of a husband who normally snuggles with me during movies, all of a sudden not even wanting to sit near me. I ended the evening in sadness and feeling a bit alone. But through my sleep and waking in the morning I came to think I had the wrong idea of what romance is.

Yes, romance is everything exemplified in movies and books, it is everything that Webster
explains in the official definition. I have in all reality fooled myself and have lived a naive life, a silly girl expecting a knight in shining armor holding a dozen long stemmed roses and riding a most beautiful stallion to come and rescue me from this wicked world.

Romance is so much more than that and it is humiliating to admit that it has taken me the great number of years that it has to come to this realization. I believe true romance to be when my husband and I are in the car and then out of no where I realize he has been holding my hand and I wonder, "when did he do that?"; when I peak in on him and see him curled up with our girls and he is reading them a story or just have a good ol' tickle fight; when my husband asks me what I want him to make us for dinner; when my husband says "give me a list, what would you like me to do today" with out me even ever dropping hints; when he actually gives me a kiss hello or good bye (he is not a believer in PDA, even at home!); when he sits by me in church and holds my hand; when I over hear him speaking kind words about me to his family; when he grabs me in the kitchen and starts twirling me around making our girls giggle as we dance around our kitchen. The list just goes on and on.

So, now that I have matured I admit, my husband is the most romantic man alive. He is my knight in khaki pants and plaid shirt, driving a tiny Suzuki Aerio, carrying a 50 pound backpack full of mind boggling books of physics, chemistry, and icky math, and he DROPS everything to hold me and say "I missed you today". And in all reality if I were to ever write a story about our love story, I would have to admit that it would be quite romantic. Who knows maybe someday I will.

The Sights, Sounds, and Smells of Spring

Ah, springtime. I love springtime. It is my absolute favorite season, Autumn is runner up. For the first time this season my daughters and I finally made our way out of doors for our annual "new life" walk. We headed to Barber Park. This park runs right along side the Boise River. Just after starting our walk we heard a sound that one does not ever hear in apartment living. It was the rhythmic tap, tap, tapping of a woodpecker. We stopped on a bridge to see if we could find the maker of this beautiful natural music. To our delight the bird was not too far off and was easily spotted first by Lydia. We crouched down and quietly observed as he pecked away at the wood in hopes of finding some lunch. One thing I love about nature walks with my daughters is the opportunity not only for adventure but for learning and observing.

Just after crossing the bridge we found some foots paths leading off into various parts of the park that off the paved path. We chose these paths knowing that these paths would take us to parts of the park that bicycles were not allowed, joggers did not jog, and voices were kept in a hushed tone. This is when we really felt close to nature. The trees were just budding, many flowers had opened and the animals were all so alive. There were so many delicious smells in the air. Several times we would stop, close our eyes, and take deep cleansing breaths of fresh air. As our eyes were shut we could hear the cold, newly melted snow of the mountains, rushing over the stones of the Boise River. A few fishermen were silently sitting along its banks and as a pair of mallards flew over head everyone watched to see where they might land.

At one point in our adventure we came to a little inlet completely surrounded by the gradually thickening brush, and silently wading in the inlet was a single mallard, perhaps searching for a place for his mate to lay eggs; you never know. With our stealth like steps and "no talking" moment we were able to observe him for quite a few minutes before he noticed us and took off quit quickly to flight and moving several yards further down river.

Looking in fallen logs for critters waking from a winter sleep, investigating interesting growth on a tree trunk, a "spooky" web filled hole in a dead tree, mounds of dirt thrown out of holes by some unknown creatures, a very large unidentifiable bird of prey that flew just barely over head that we wished would just stop mid air for one brief moment for us to take a closer look but refused to slow down even for us, and enjoying the warm sun and cool spring breeze were all favorites on our walk.

At one Lydia came whimpering to me and said a wild animal bit her. I took a closer look and found it to be a scratch from one of the thorn bushes she had a run in with. I explained and showed to Lydia the "wild animal" that caused her such pain. She said, "oh, I thought it was a wild animal". Apparently the scratch hurt pretty bad. She was really quite enthralled by it and paid little attention to anything else after receiving it. On the car ride back home she poured water on it and said that the water healed her finger and made it all better. She said upon the miraculous healing of her scratch, "I knew Heavenly Father was real! See He healed my finger." I smiled at my daughter's great faith and said, "you should thank Him for thinking of you and blessing you". She did right then and there.

I love nature!