Anybody want a peanut?

This makes me so very happy.

I saw The Princess Bride in the theatre the first weekend it came out in September 1987;  I was in that magical first month of my freshman year at college so for me it's all wrapped up in nostalgia and the delight of new freedom and friendships and the feeling of unlimited possibility. 'Tis true.

My favorite, exceedingly quotable lines that have been dropped into conversation over the years:

As you wish.
Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.
ROUS.
No more rhymes now, I mean it! ...anybody want a peanut?
You rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles.
We are men of action, lies do not become us.
Inconceivable.
You keep using this word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

I just checked and I have now mentioned The Princess Bride no less than five times on this blog. Five! It's going to start needing its own tag pretty soon. Here are the others, in case you're wondering:

Hello my name is
As you wish
Ensconced
En garde

. . .

p.s. thanks to my brother Chris for passing these along. I did the math and he was seven when The Princess Bride came out. Youngster.

Commodious reading

This weekend as I cleaned the bathroom I noticed that a July 2010 issue of Real Simple magazine has been sitting on the shelf in the downstairs bathroom for a long time. I knew this because I could recite the quote on the spine of the magazine without looking.

Curious, I wandered into the family room where the rest of the crew was lounging.

"Hey guys, complete this sentence: 'I like things to happen..."

Everyone piped up, in chorus: "...and if they don't happen, I like to make them happen. Winston Churchill."

And then we debated the fittingness of that certain location for that particular quote. Because we're mature like that.

Never let it be said we don't know how to multi-task. Just think of all the chapters of scriptures and Shakespearean sonnets we could have memorized in those nine months!

Oscar night shenanigans

We're a movie family. My mom and her sisters have been known to fly across the country to watch the Oscars together, even bringing fabulously eclectic formalwear gathered from searches of secondhand clothes stores throughout the year. Also, ask my Grandma about our ancestor Edwina Booth who starred in a movie nominated for best picture in 1931 and she will fill you in on all of the details including a purported train ride across Germany and some early Nazi run-ins.

Not everyone gets this movie thing and that's okay. I know it seems a titch kooky. I just wanted to point out that we come by this silliness naturally.

When the Oscars roll around each year, we try to take the chance to make it an occasion. We fill out the ballots and keep score for bragging rights (even though we haven't ever seen all of the films). We tune in early for the red carpet commentary and critiques. This year we spread out Lauren's red snuggie blanket for a red carpet and issued this challenge: dress up like someone from one of the movies or in your red carpet finest.  

Originally I tried to get away with going as Mark Zuckerberg in the Social Network, wearing a hoodie and sweats but then when my daughters got into the spirit of the evening, I upped my game a little:

Maddy started out the evening in a black tutu a la The Black Swan. Then she switched to boxers, knee highs and a t-shirt, a tribute to the locally filmed The Fighter. Lauren went as a red carpet movie star, happy to recycle her prom dress from last year (maybe the boned bodice could be a nod to Winter's Bone?). Sam came down in a cowboy hat and badge as Woody from Toy Story 3. Greg, just home from church and home teaching, came as one of the accountants for the Academy in charge of protecting the honor of the voting system. In retrospect, I'm saying that I went as grown-up Mattie Ross (remember in True Grit when she leaves the graveyard in her Mary Poppins-like dress?). Either that, or Tom Hooper's proud mum who found the idea for The King's Speech and passed it along to her son. The line of the night: "The moral of the story is: listen to your mother."

p.s. Overall, I wasn't that wowed by the Oscars this year but I *loved* Cate Blanchett's hair last night (here's the side and back). Really, really. Don't be surprised if I return to my shorter hair of yore sometime this spring. I think I might be up for a change.

Notes to self

 

Dear Tummy,

I'm sorry for the rich party food I ate at the 4 festive gatherings this weekend. (Seriously, though. That baklava? Insanely good!) Today is all virtuous clementines and salad and water. Truce?

Love,

Full me

. . .

Dear Thighs,

Don't. Even. Think about it. Please disregard everything I ate this weekend (see above). 

Love,

Pear-shaped me

. . .

Dear Head, Nose, Throat, and Eyes,

Thank you so much for clearing up and going back to normal.  I promise not to take you for granted any more. Also (this is for you, nose) enjoy the lovely pine tree smell and the mulling spices. Who loves you, huh?

Love,

Glad-to-be-well me

. . .

Dear Brain,

I know you see December on the calendar and throw confetti in the air and dance a jig. But I really, really need you to stay focused for just a few more days. A week, max. Also, I absolutely love the ideas you produce but your whirring in the middle of the night is a bit much.  Same with your worry output. Relax, brain. There's plenty of time and love in the world. Talk to your friend the heart now and then; that'll calm you down.

Love,

Paper-writing me

. . .

Dear Tongue,

Um, I don't know how to tell you this but Christmas card day is upon us soon. Man up, tongue! Stop cowering. It's envelope licking season and you're it. Hey, good news, though! The stamps are adhesive! You're welcome.

Love,

Bossy me

. . .

Dear Trunk,

Do you mind if I call you that? Trunk? You know who I'm talking to: arms-back-chest-belly-shoulders. Have you noticed a wonderful change lately? No, not the baklava, silly. Have you noticed how warm you are when outside? How snuggled in downy goodness? Let's hear it for the fabulous new winter coat you are wrapped in. That shivering from last year had to go, especially with all that dog walking. Here's to many winter adventures, including (fingers crossed) skiing with the kids, snowshoeing, and sledding. p.s. Rear end, I've even got you covered here, just like you prefer.

Love,

Cozy me

. . .

Dear Hair,

Yeah. Sorry. You've been neglected. Hang in there! (Ha, ha.)

Love,

Shaggy, lazy me

. . .

photo via here

In praise of men's voices

Today on my way in to Tufts, this song came on my ipod mix. There's something about the sound of men singing, right? Ben Wishaw (as Keats) and the Human Orchestra in Bright Star. Listen:

I must be getting old because I think Ben Wishaw's adorable in a want-to-take-care-of-him-and-pack-his-lunches-and-make-him-dress-warmly kind of way. A maternal crush? Is there such a thing? Please tell me I'm not alone. Behold:

See? Adorable.

Maybe I can start a little Home for Tender Undernourished Actors. HTUA.

Peepshow

Every year we look forward to seeing The Washington Post's annual peep contest published on Easter.  This year (its 4th) did not disappoint. We especially liked the Eep! (UP!), Where the Wild Peeps Are, and Peepeline entries.

Here's a link to all of the fantastic entries. Enjoy!

When we were brainstorming what we would do for a peep theme,  Sam said "Masterpeeps Theater," Maddy said "Hidden Valley Peeps" (her favorite salad dressing), I thought Gladys and the Peeps would be great (I think someone has already done this at some point).   What about you--what would you do?

Just because

I'm pretty sure everyone needs a little Kermit in their lives:

Especially if it's Kermit doing a snow angel.

(photo in The Boston Globe today, by David Lee Tiller) 

Where's Rob?!

This will make your day, a real-life Where's Waldo (except Rob)at a Knick's game. All kinds of wonderful:

Seriously.

I need to find a group who will do things like this with me.

Except, how would I be able to keep a straight face?

Sticky situation

Over the summer we replaced our hardy old minivan Ruby (~200,000 miles!) with a brand new family mobile.  This was a long-awaited event and, as we cleared out the flotsam and jetsam from the trusty but stained Ruby, G extracted a promise from each of us:

No food in the new car.

The kids tried different techniques to test the paternal rule resolve.  They sneaked snacks aboard in their pockets, for one.  Oh, the folly of youth. These things are always discovered and woe!WOE! unto the child who sneakily munches in the back seat.  By their crumbs they are judged.

Eventually we all got used to the new reign of foodlessness and all was well.  We took 6-hour summer trips where water was the only allowed substance to touch our lips while inside the new vehicle.  If sometimes I brought a therapeutic can of Diet Coke into the car, I claimed parental exemption and crossed my fingers.

So imagine my horror when I got into the car recently and found that the gear shift between the two front seats was verrrry difficult to move.  It stuck and was almost impossible to shift into reverse or drive, especially first thing in the morning.  Like something had been spilled nearby.  I was pretty sure I hadn't spilled my soda. Had I? HAD I?!  Looking closer, I noticed several sticky spots on and around and in(!) the shifter.

I scrambled into the house to get something to wipe up the evidence.  

G: (casually) What are you doing? 

A: (slamming cupboards and rushing around) oh...I just noticed something needed to be wiped up in the car

G: (his interest piqued) Oh? What?

A: Um.  Well.  I just tried to shift the car into reverse and--I don't know how this happened--it seems like there's something spilled and sticky.

G: What?!

A: Yeah. I can't figure it out because we really haven't had anything in the car like that.

G: (Silence)

A: And it's REALLY sticky.  So, you know, I don't even think it would be...a drink...or anything.

G: Hmm.

A: (still getting towels and water)

G: So...it is sticky like honey?

A: Yeah! That's exactly what it's like.  I even tasted it and it's sweet. Why?

G: Hmm.

A: What?

G: I had a peanut butter and honey sandwich in the car.

A: (laughing) YOU did?

G: (meekly laughing) Yes...I didn't have time to eat before soccer practice so I grabbed a sandwich. 

A: (still laughing) Okay Mr. No Food in the Car!  A peanut butter and honey sandwich?!

And so it is that every morning when I get in the car, I wrestle the somewhat sticky gearshift into reverse and chuckle a little that it was G who was the first to usher the new car into "broken in" status.

. . .

Thankful for: my funny (+ honest!) G, the 10 a.m. schedule at church, great car conversations with my kids.

You can't be serious

'My Funny Family' from hailey bartholomew on Vimeo.

Feel like a virtual field trip?  A trip to one of my favorite new-to-me sites is a treat. This artistic Australian family of four--photographers, designers, film-makers, gigglers--knows how to have F-U-N. The Bartholomews make me want to invite more fun + zaniness + joy into my life.  See them at You Can't Be Serious here. And their Christmas card photo has inspired me...look for a little zaniness from the W clan come December.

p.s. We're getting back on our feet around here! More soon...

Thankful for: tears (nothing like a good cry) ~ tealight candles ~ washer+dryer