Movie Review- The Time Traveler's Wife

Because who doesn't have time for a movie? And if you watch the movie you don't even have to read the book. The theory has proved true with me for Memoirs of a Geisha.

The Time Travelers Wife-

A perfect chick flick to take your sister to. You will love Eric Bana. You may not realize that you already do. He played Hector in Troy. We both started crying about half way through and didn't stop until the end. Every chick needs a good cry every once in a while. I opted not to take any movie theater knitting since my sister's laugh is distraction enough in a theater, but I was glad I didn't. Had I taken it I probably would have missed every time travel and been thoroughly confused. This is not a science fiction movie. If you're going to analyze time travel, forget it. You'll hate it. It's a love story. If you take your husband it's not likely you'll get him to watch another chick flick for a very long time. Unless his favorite movie was The Notebook in which case you should really start encouraging belching and more time in the garage. I'm ranking it right up there with Charly and The Notebook. Especially good for sleepovers and to watch during certain times of the month. If you're going to be crying anyway, you might as well put on a movie.

My Happy Place

Second only to my continual struggle with controlling what comes out of my mouth, comes my constant inability to turn off my brain. It rapid-fires in the middle of the night waking me up and leading to needless worry over things I have little to no control over. All day long I am making lists and plans for things I need to/want to accomplish as a mom, a wife, a nurse, a woman. As a talk radio junkie the narrative in my head is perpetuated. What are they thinking? Are they thinking? Why can't I stop thinking?

This is why people hike, and run, and exercise. To take a break. Relax. It doesn't work for me. It turns into only scheduled thinking and scheduled worry. I struggle to find that zen-like space where you are totally relaxed and think about nothing. A Happy Place.

I've always been attracted to horses. Whether it has been because it was the one pet I've never owned, or just something in my genes- horseback riding has always appealed to me. And so I've found my happy place. I think about where my feet are at while I groom, keeping my heels down, not squeezing with my knees, knuckles up, weight in my feet, balance point, prepping for the turn, letting him walk out, and fifty other things all at the same time. But nothing else.

Martha Stewart makes this look easy. It makes me look tired.

We've got new bows, travel buddy, tissue paper flowers, and tomorrow we'll do the caramel apples. Getting ready to leave for a vacation should not be this much work.

It's not enough.

I wasn't a very good mommy yesterday. Or the day before. I was sick. And tired. And sick of being sick and tired. And somehow even though I am young, healthy, educated, make a good living- there are times I lack the physical energy and emotional strength to be everything that my daughter needs me to be. I can't do it all myself. And I don't. Yet I remain confident that she does not lack in any way.

Saturday I fell asleep for several hours to the sound of Scrunch and her Papa doing puzzles in the next room and hearing him ask if she could say certain words. I slept knowing that when I woke up she would be fed, clothed (but maybe not in matching clothes), and running around happily.

When people ask me why our Birthmother chose to place, the answer is very simple. She wasn't that young. She was healthy, working on her education, able to make a living, and completely supported by her friends and family in single parenting. And yet she still chose to give her child more than she could offer. A family with both a mom and a dad. In her wisdom, she knew that just mom isn't enough.

Who needs one more thing to do?

I would like to write a book review, but that would imply that I've read a book lately. And I can't remember even the title, much less the details of the last book I've read enough to write any report of substance. So lets start a book club, shall we? I know there are lots of sites like Shelfari and Good Reads, but I'm too lazy and don't need one more place to log in, check, update, etc. You can even pick the book. Once a month I'll tell you what I think. And you can tell me what you thought. It doesn't have to be publishable review for the New Yorker. You can say, "I thought the book was dumb." And I won't even come back with, "Well, maybe you're dumb." I promise.

Ready? Set. Read.

Aw, crap. We need a book. Suggestions? I'll let you know on Monday what I (we'll) be reading. I know I can at least count on two of you.

Dad. Miqui. That means you.

* Post Edit- I can count on Goose too.

Happy Birthday to me!

I was going to clean the vacuum today, but decided against it when I realized that when people asked me what I did for my birthday I'd then have to say, "Um, I cleaned the vacuum." Instead I ate half a birthday cake. But I guess that's okay. It was only half the cake. It's all about perspective. I'm either very young or very old depending on who you are. As it was pointed out by my sisters, "Holy crap! You're half way to fifty!!!!" and then overhearing the conversation a few co-workers responded with, "You're HALF way to fifty???"

And just for my total bragging pleasure, because it's my party and I can if I want to...my sexy black high school graduation dress still fits. I try it on every year just to make sure. I will stop eating half of my birthday cake the year that it doesn't anymore. That's where I'm at on this discussion, this year. I clearly lack a testimony of sleeves as well. Just typing that makes me chuckle.

Never say never.

Today was a momentous occasion. For several reasons actually. One of which being that I started running uh jogging uh walking. I mean, come on. How many times have I blogged about how much I hate running? And look. Here's one more. I will never be a runner. That's what I said. (This is where you look back at the title of the post and say, oh I get it! Never say never. Catchy.) The activity hurts and gets you right back where you started (if you're lucky). I fail to see the point unless you are being chased. 3.8 miles later I still thinks it's lame but I plan on doing again on Friday. Plus, the chick I'm going with seems quite normal and I'd like to corrupt her find out why.

***Side story...want to know how you know you've watched too many episodes of NCIS on Netflicks? As you leave your house at o'dark thirty you realize you don't have your cell phone and you contemplate going back to get it. Why do you need your cell phone? So you can call the authorities when you discover a body. It's always a runner, a biker, or a hiker who finds the bodies.

I also said I'd never bribe my child with chocolate chips. That didn't take long. But after trying on the dress I made (without a pattern btw) about twelve times, she put her foot down on the thirteenth. Rather than engage in the wrestling match, because quite frankly I'm afraid she could beat me, I told her I'd giver a chocolate chip if she would put the dress on for mommy. She prompting said, " Yesh." and put the dress on. She then proceed to wipe her hand across the front. No, it's not my crappy camera. It is a water spot. Because today God smiled upon me and made chocolate chips water soluble. And that brings us to the moral of this rambling story...yup, you guessed it... never say never.