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I’d like to dedicate this post to Kristi

  • March 18, 2009










We had a great time yesterday! It was beautiful here in Iowa and warm enough for flip flops and short sleeves.

Our home was invaded by leprechauns and Matthew is having a hard time adjusting to the fact that they’ve gone away for another year.

Tom and Amy, Trish, and Kristi joined us for an afternoon of celebrating. I told everyone I wanted to introduce my blog readers to them, via photos, because they’re the people Dave and I spend a lot of our time with. Kristi is the other brunette (besides me), Amy and Tom are sitting next to each other, and Trish (my twin sister) is the other blonde. I think you all know the cute dude with the goatee sitting next to me is Dave.

Kristi mentioned (actually insisted) that she is the most dedicated reader of my blog and I have to agree with her. She is the one who gives me constant feedback via e-mail and by writing on my Facebook wall. She tells others about my blog and always has something nice to say about what I’ve written. She also loves to be mentioned in the blog (even when I told everyone about her throwing up all over my couch).

So, to thank Kristi for her constant and continued cheerleading of my blog, I’d like to share with you my favorite Kristi quotes. Here they are, in no particular order:

“Dude!”

“Listen kids, with modern technology there’s no reason why you can’t take a pill now and then.”

“Let’s hug it out.”

“I’m a lover not a fighter.”

“I’ve just got so many thoughts I have to say them right now.”

“Here’s the deal, I just pissed all over myself when I went to the port-a-potty so we can either go home so I can change or you can all be cool and not give me any shit.”

“Jesus Tracey, I’m sorry about your Pottery Barn slipcover. I didn’t know I had such a severe allergy to lime juice.”

Please keep the quotes coming Kristi. You’re always a wonderful addition to any social gathering at my house. And it’s because of you that I use the word “dude” so much.

So, there you have it. Another holiday has come and gone and the high temperature today is about twenty degrees colder than yesterday so I am very thankful we were able to be outside, at least for one day. It will probably snow next week but we’re used to that sort of thing in Iowa.

Today is going to be pretty low key because this leprechaun is tired. I’m going to try to get the offspring to stop fixating on the fact that the leprechauns have gone and try to help them focus on the next holiday.

The Easter bunny will be here soon enough.

The leprechauns are coming! The leprechauns are coming!

  • March 14, 2009

St. Patrick’s Day is a big deal in our house. It shouldn’t be, because we’re not Irish, but I don’t know anyone who gets more excited than we do about leprechauns.

About four years ago, we started telling the offspring that if you believe in leprechauns, they’ll visit your house on St. Patrick’s Day. We told them if you’re really fast, you might catch one. Matthew and Lauren immediately built a leprechaun trap.

We always get together with Tom and Amy, and their offspring, to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. I make potato soup and we’ll have some beer (but not the green kind). Matthew, Lauren, Scott, and Grace have a ball because we hide all kinds of St. Patrick’s Day stuff like shamrocks and gold wrapped candy all over the house and pretend it’s the leprechauns who are doing it. We put drops of green food coloring in the toilet and tell all the kids the leprechauns are up to their old mischief again.

It’s kind of getting out of hand, actually. If the leprechauns haven’t left something new for all the kids to find at least every hour, they start to complain and get mad at the leprechauns.

Two years ago, Tom, Amy, Dave, and I, and all the kids, took a spring break vacation to Chicago. We watched them turn the river green and attended the St. Patrick’s Day parade. We had to haul all the St. Patrick’s Day stuff to Chicago and then take turns shuffling the kids between the hotel rooms so one of the adults could turn a toilet green or hide some shamrocks and candy. It was exhausting.

Two days ago, I placed a small piece of shamrock confetti on Matthew’s keyboard. The day after that I sprinkled a couple pieces of shamrock confetti in each of their beds and dropped one piece in their bathroom toilet. They kinda went crazy. They’re convinced there’s a leprechaun named Marie who has been leaving the confetti and they’ve been trying to coax her out by talking into the vent in Matthew’s room. We told them that’s how the leprechauns get in (we’ve also told them the tooth fairy comes through the vents and they bought it so it seemed like a good idea to tell them the leprechauns get in the same way).

We probably only have a couple years left before they figure out that leprechauns don’t actually visit on St. Patrick’s Day. I’ll be a little bummed when that happens.

We’ll still celebrate anyway.

Guess What?

  • March 13, 2009


I lost another 1.8 lbs. when I weighed in at Weight Watchers today. Yay! I’ve lost 20.8 lbs. so far which means I’m getting close to my goal of losing 25. I’ve also dropped two jeans sizes. Yay! Yay! Yay!

When I reach my goal I’m going to celebrate with crack dip and a cosmopolitan as big as my head.

As you can see, I’m kind of excited about it. I haven’t had a cosmopolitan in a really long time.

When I reach my goal, I’m going to ask all my blog readers (you seven people know who you are) to join me in raising a martini glass and a Ritz cracker covered in crack dip.

Please say you’ll join me!

The Real Housewives of NYC

  • March 12, 2009

Last night was a double header of guilty-pleasure TV viewing at my house.

First we watched American Idol and Dave mentioned, like he does every single time we watch this show, how much he can’t stand Ryan Seacrest, especially his voice. Dave doesn’t like anything about Ryan and thinks he’s really short.

I don’t have a problem with Ryan but I loathe Paula Abdul and I kept yelling at the TV screen for her to “just quit talking!“ I hate her floaty, breathy, spaced out commentary and wish she’d stop drinking her pre-show vodka martini with a splash of valium. Her non-sensical communication style drives me absolutely nuts but I’ll admit my yelling at Paula, via the TV screen, is starting to get a little out of hand.

Possibly I should mention that my grandma (displaced former owner of the Buick Skylark) used to make disparaging comments to Vanna White every night at 6:30 during Wheel of Fortune so perhaps my problem is hereditary.

After American Idol, we put the offspring to bed and watched The Real Housewives of New York City attention whore their way through another episode.

And lest you think I‘m a total hypocrite, I‘d like to address a few things: A) I realize attention whoring on a reality show isn‘t that different from attention whoring on a blog (100 more things about me, anyone?).

B) I never said I was the classiest housewife in the universe.

C) If there was a possibility of a Real Housewives of Dallas County spin-off I’d camp overnight outside wherever the casting call was being held so I would be first in line to audition. Being paid to drink wine on camera and come up with snarky stuff to say about the other housewives would sorta be like me hitting the mother lode.

Last night’s episode opened with Jill planning an apartment “face lift” with her “gay husband” Brad because “you should re-do your apartment every seven years“ (Brad should not be confused with Jill’s non-gay, and kinda creepy, husband Bobby who reminds me of a crime boss with his slicked-back hair and beady eyes).

I had my own gay boyfriend my freshman year of college and thanks to my lack of a reliable gaydar, I mistakenly thought he was going to be my heterosexual boyfriend.

We’d watch TV under the covers in my dorm room bed, we exchanged Christmas gifts, and we saw the movie “White Nights” starring Mikhail Baryshnikov together. I thought we might make out someday but I finally got my head out of my ass sophomore year and realized we both liked boys.

Next on the Real Housewives were Alex and Simon discussing their Brooklyn town home renovation with an architect. They told him they wanted something other than granite because granite was “so five years ago.“ They also mentioned they might like a neon green oven. Alex told the architect she’d like built in bookshelves so Francois and Johan could grab a book by Dickens or Shakespeare whenever they felt like it.

Then, we see a shot of Alex and Simon lounging in their ten foot by three foot Wal-Mart wading pool, lamenting the fact that poor New York apartment dwellers don’t have the backyard luxuries they do. I guess Alex forgot that a lot of the poor New York apartment dwellers got the hell out of the city and are actually enjoying the beautiful swimming pools at their Hampton’s houses.

LuAnn (AKA Countess deLesseps) and Bethenny meet for lunch and LuAnn asks Bethenny if she‘ll help cook for the Hope Lodge charity event for the American Cancer Society. Bethenny agrees and, on the night of the dinner, joins LuAnn and Ramona, who has also agreed to help.

Before Ramona arrived, Bethenny told LuAnn about Social Life magazine doing a photo spread on her and selecting her to be on the cover. LuAnn, a former model, stated that the photographs would be “re-touched” which hurt Bethenny’s feelings.

While the three of them prepare dinner, Ramona gives Bethenny unsolicited dating advice and tells her to “date a bunch of men, see what you like.” LuAnn does not care for this advice and feels dating several men will give Bethenny a bad reputation.

Ramona fires back, “What do you know, you got married to a man twice your age.”

Me-ow!

The countess came unglued. She responded that Alec (AKA Count deLesseps), was fifteen years older than her and she married him when she was twenty-seven. She asked Ramona if she though Alec was an “old man” and Ramona said she thought he looked like one.

Just my two cents but I think the Countess is a wee bit defensive about their age difference because Alec does look quite a bit older than she does. If I were LuAnn, I’d be more worried about the fact that she’s the Count’s fourth wife but that’s just me.

LuAnn retaliated by telling Ramona that her husband Mario was a handsome guy but he was no spring chicken either. I think Mario’s biggest concern should be figuring out how to convince his pit bull-on- wheels wife Ramona to keep her totally tactless pie-hole shut.

Bethenny asks LuAnn to lunch and tries to explain how her feelings were hurt when LuAnn made the statement about Bethenny’s photographs needing to be re-touched. LuAnn accused Bethenny of being ultra-sensitive and Bethenny never gets the apology she is seeking.

Personally, the Countess is starting to bug me. She wrote a book on etiquette and now she thinks she can correct everyone else‘s manners even though her own are often atrocious.

So far, The Real Housewives of NYC has not disappointed. There’s just as much drama as The Real Housewives of OC but the NYC housewives have more face-to-face confrontations whereas OC is more passive-aggressive, at least until the reunion show when they all went ballistic on each other.

I think the double-header of American Idol and The Real Housewives of New York make for a relaxing Tuesday night. It’s nice to watch something that entertains you and doesn’t require you to think.

Dave and I watch Lost on Wednesday nights. That show gives us enough to think about for days.

Sometimes I miss the mix tape

  • March 10, 2009

Trish and I shared a bedroom until we were fourteen years old. We had bunk beds and a clock radio that we left on constantly, even when we were asleep.

If we wanted to record a song off the radio, Trish and I would hold a tape recorder, the kind with an attached microphone, up to the clock radio and hope the DJ stopped talking when the singing began.

One night, when I was seven years old, I was the tenth caller on KMGK. I won the Bay City Rollers 1974 album, Rollin’ (which contained the hit single “Saturday Night“). My mom picked it up at the radio station the next day and I played the album repeatedly on the stereo in our basement. It was one of my favorites, although I liked Shaun Cassidy’s Born Late a little bit better.

When we were fourteen, we moved into a new house and Trish and I got our own bedrooms and eventually, our own stereos. We primarily still bought albums although we slowly started switching over to cassettes.

When we turned sixteen, we inherited my Grandma’s 1972 Buick Skylark, complete with AM radio, because her driving had gotten really scary and my dad had to take her keys away. We longed for FM and a cassette player so we bought a ghetto blaster and it sat between us on the front seat as we played Def Leppard’s Pyromania cassette over and over (ghetto blaster was a perfectly acceptable term in the eighties). Some jackass stole it when we left the Buick unlocked and Trish and I were devastated because we had just put eight new D batteries in it. Our stupidity and carelessness was punished by a return to the hell of AM radio. I don’t think either of us ever forgot to lock a car again.

When I got my 1981 Honda Prelude, I spent every dime I had upgrading the sound system. I swapped out the factory stereo for a Pioneer, replaced the speakers, and added an equalizer that had a bunch of cool red lights on it. I had an impressive collection of cassette tapes, in a special case, that I kept in the car at all times.

When I was twenty-one, Stacy came to spend the night with me at my college apartment. We were road tripping to Illinois the next day so we prepared by making a mix tape to play in the car.

I remember we included Elton John’s “Someone Saved My Life Tonight” and “One of These Nights” by the Eagles. My favorite song on the mix tape was Grand Master Flash’s “The Message.“ You cannot fully appreciate this song until you’ve seen two white suburban girls (who know EVERY WORD) sing it like it’s their job. If there was anything more gangsta’ than us I’d like to see it.

Somehow, our conversation was also recorded along with all the songs. Since we were completely stoned when we made the mix tape we had our favorite songs to listen to AND our idiotic commentary recorded as a “voice over” to amuse us. You could also hear a bunch of Bic lighter flicking, inhaling and coughing. It was the best mix tape ever and I am so bummed because I lost track of it a few years ago. I’m still hoping it turns up.

The offspring have never had to sit beside a tiny clock radio, waiting to hear their favorite song so they can push “record” on a crappy little tape recorder and hope the DJ stops talking in time.

They have their own boom boxes, stereos, and ipods. They can burn a CD from itunes anytime they want. If they don’t know the words to their favorite song, they can go to lyrics.com. Thanks to XM and Sirius, they don’t have to listen to commercials, or a DJ. They can watch their favorite band on You Tube or hook up Rock Band to the Wii and jam out in their own basement.

But where’s the fun in that?

Seriously, like a bull in a china shop

  • March 5, 2009



You know how I was saying that the vase I bought at Pier 1 was going to require moving all the home accessories on my main floor around?

I wasn’t kidding.

Our house is in shambles right now. Everything that used to be on a shelf or table in the family room is now piled up in the dining room. I think Dave is getting a little tired of me asking him if he likes “that candle over there” and does he think that vase “should be up a little higher.” I bet my spending all day on the computer is starting to sound pretty good compared to my spending all day on the computer AND tearing the house apart and not putting anything back.

I went to Pier 1 again today, sans husband and the offspring, ready to knock this mother of a decorating project out.

I got there right at 10:00 which, according to the sign on the door, is when they’re supposed to open. The doors were still locked so I kept peering through the windows like a crazy person. At around 10:05 I gave the doors a little rattle because I’m thinking, maybe if they can’t see me they’ll hear me. Finally, someone opens the door, apologizing for not opening it sooner. I’m all “oh it’s no problem” but what I’m really thinking is get out of my way because all the inventory I’ve been looking at through the window is starting to resemble home decor crack and I must get me some RIGHT NOW!

First I tried to locate a huge vase that Dave and I had seen on Sunday. We have a two story entryway and there’s a big shelf high off the ground that would be perfect for an oversized piece of pottery with maybe some of those floral stems sticking out the top. That would be a big improvement over the two inches of dust and one pink fleece lined croc that’s up there now (no one will admit to throwing the shoe).

I thought for sure they had sold the vase I wanted. I couldn’t find it anywhere and since I was the only one in the store, both the manager and another employee were trying to help me find it. They kept showing me things and I kept saying, “I don’t think that’s it.”

Finally I chose a different vase, which wasn’t quite what I wanted, but I thought it would work anyway. Then, the Pier 1 employee and I started trying all kinds of different floral stems and sticks to see what looked best. I didn’t like the little eucalyptus but I did like the big leaves. But then I liked the tall grasses better so we switched everything out several times.

Then, I actually found the vase I was looking for in the first place. The Pier 1 employees switch everything around every forty eight hours and they had different stuff coming out the top and I got confused. So we took all the stems out of the other vase and the manager tried out several for me in the vase I had wanted from the start. She had to climb up a ladder every time we tried something new and I felt bad because she was starting to sweat.

Using my camera phone, I sent Dave several pictures of the vase with the stems sticking out the top and also a piece of wall art that I liked to his Blackberry, NONE of which he received, thus proving I really don’t know how to use any of the electronic devices in my possession. I’ll never own a Blackberry of my own because frankly, I’m afraid the learning curve would be too difficult for me. Think how much better this blog would look if I mastered HTML and wasn’t afraid to install widgets.

Next I pulled out a bunch of really tall stick things to put in ANOTHER vase I already own that’s in the corner of my dining room. I turned to the side while holding the sticks and wham, knocked a reed diffuser full of scented oil onto the floor. The glass didn’t shatter but it made a big freaking mess.

Seriously, I have no idea when I became such a messy, clumsy, PITA shopper. I must have said “please” and “thank you” and now “I’m sorry” about fifteen times. I thought, “if I damage anything else during this visit, I’m just going to leave.” This is not the first time I’ve broken something in Pier 1 either. I once reduced a pyramid of plastic wine glasses to smithereens. You’d think they’d be kind of unbreakable since they’re plastic but they’re not.

I finally found everything I was looking for and went up to the cash register to pay. Meanwhile, a couple more customers came up to the counter and were waiting patiently to pay for their items. The employee helping me told them someone would be with them in a minute and I’m thinking, no they won’t, because they’re busy cleaning up the path of destruction I just left in the home fragrance area.

Finally I left. The really nice, and totally forgiving staff at Pier 1 helped me load my giant vase into my car, thanked me, and sent me on my way. I’m so going to have to go to the other Pier 1 on the south side for a while.

I got everything unloaded from the car by myself but I can’t put the big vase up on the high shelf without some help. It’s going to require the really tall ladder that Dave used when he painted our last house. Plus, I never like to attempt anything that might require a 911 call when I’m home alone because if I knock myself unconscious during the fall someone needs to be able to call an ambulance.

I wonder how Dave will feel about helping with the vase relocation project BEFORE dinner. It would probably be better if I wait until he’s taken off his coat and I’ve plied him with the fajitas I’m making tonight.

But after that, I’m gonna need some help from handyman Dave.

A rant about people I don’t actually know

  • March 4, 2009

I heard on the news (OK, fine, I read it on People.com) that Rihanna is back together with Chris Brown.

Really Rihanna? Seriously?

I’m amazed that someone as beautiful and talented as Rihanna would even consider taking back an abusive boyfriend. What is it that Chris Brown has, that makes her want to return to a relationship with him? Do you think Rihanna is telling her family something like “I know he knocked me around a little, but he told me he‘d never do it again and he makes the best ham and cheese omelettes I’ve ever tasted!” And what the hell is Sean “diddy-I’ll have a different stupid name next year-” Combs doing facilitating this dysfunctional reconciliation by having Rihanna and Chris as his house guests?

Okay, I understand wanting to give someone the benefit of the doubt. I believe in second chances, sometimes, and I don’t think holding a grudge is healthy or productive.

We all have to decide which relationships are worth fighting for and which ones we need to jettison. We’ve all had relationships we thought were over but discovered are really salvageable. Maybe we were too harsh, or too quick to judge. Maybe the grass wasn’t greener on the other side of the fence.

And Rihanna? Chris Brown can come home from the bar stinking drunk and you can forgive him. Chris Brown can come home stinking drunk from the bar and activate the home security system on your mansion because he can‘t remember the code and you can forgive him. Chris Brown can come home from the bar stinking drunk, activate the home security system on your mansion because he can‘t remember the code, and then pee in your bed after he passes out in it, and you can forgive him.

And you can actually forgive Chris Brown for beating the shit out of you. What’s not very smart is for you to get back together with him.

I don’t have any first hand experience with domestic violence and I‘ve never walked a mile in Rihanna‘s high-heeled shoes. I can’t say, without a doubt, that Chris Brown will hit Rihanna again. However, I do wholeheartedly believe in the axiom that past behavior is the best predictor of future behavior.

If you’re going to give a relationship a second chance, make sure it’s a safe one. (Whisper) Like, maybe a relationship with the guy who used to do your nails.

What? Oh that. I’ve just been wondering if maybe I made a hasty decision. Maybe my Top Nails boyfriend wasn’t so bad after all. He certainly never whacked me in the head while he was doing my nails. His hands, though clammy, have always been very gentle.

And lately I’ve been thinking about him. I remember his goofy little smile. I can picture him bundled up in his striped woolen sweater. And even though I went on and on about the new girl at Elegant Nails, I think my Top Nails boyfriend makes prettier shaped fingernails. Maybe Top Nails would turn the television channel to E! so I wouldn’t have to be tortured by One Life to Live.

And it wouldn’t kill me to Rosetta Stone myself up a little by learning a second language. With all the effing around I do on the computer might it be possible to use Google to learn how to say a few Mandarin pleasantries like “nice job” and “how are you doing today?” while I’m mastering the rest of the language? It’s not like my Top Nails boyfriend and I got divorced. We’re “on a break” so the door is still open for me to return if I feel like it. I don’t have to decide anything until next week, which is when my fingernails will start to look kinda scary, and in dire need of a fill.

Anyway, I understand how a woman might want to return to a relationship that, at one time, seemed to be going well. How, after a period of reflection, and a little distance, you can re-evaluate your feelings and maybe give someone another chance.

But back to you Rihanna. I don’t think it’s ever a good idea to return to someone who hit you. Ditch that loser; you don’t need him for anything. And Chris? Pull your pants up, you look like a fucktard. Gangsta’ chic is almost as ridiculous as those silly pants MC Hammer used to wear. You’re about as gansta’ as I am so knock it off. And quit hitting women.

In the words of Kenny Rogers, You gotta know when to walk away, know when to run. And Rihanna sweetie, you need to run. I think a continued relationship with Chris Brown is a big gamble. But of course you aren’t going to listen to me. Good luck girlfriend.

My Review of Slumdog Millionaire

  • March 4, 2009

As some of you know, I had reservations about seeing the movie Slumdog Millionaire because I wasn’t sure I could handle the violence and disturbing images. I was practically stopping strangers on the street, begging for spoilers so I could prepare myself for anything that might have a profoundly negative effect on me. Kristi talked me down from the wall a little bit by telling me, via Facebook, that there were some disturbing images but nothing that would keep me from sleeping at night.

Since Dave shot down my last minute lobby for Confessions of a Shopoholic, I had no choice but to pull up my big girl pants and deal. Our babysitter arrived and we found out she had seen the movie. When I grilled her about “bad scenes“ or scenes where something bad happens to children she kinda didn’t look me in the eye. However, she did say it was a great movie and that it would make me appreciate how fortunate we are.

This would be a good time for me to mention that if you haven’t seen the movie, but plan to, probably you should stop reading this post RIGHT NOW. Because I am going to basically go through the whole movie and I don’t want to spoil it for anyone. So, don’t read any more if you haven’t seen the movie yet, OK?

The movie is about two brothers named Salim and Jamal Malik who live in the slums of Mumbai, India. Though I’ve heard people say it is a true story, it’s not. It’s based on the novel Q & A by Vikas Swarup.

The movie begins by showing an adult Jamal being interrogated, and then subsequently tortured by a police inspector and his guard. The beating grows increasingly more violent but Jamal will not tell the men the words they want to hear. They resort to torturing him with electricity, hooking clamps to his toes and chest. Jamal still won’t admit anything, even after losing consciousness and spitting blood. The police inspector asks him, “What can a slumdog know? “ He tells them, “I know the answers.”

Next, the movie switches to a flashback format and we see Jamal and Salim become orphaned at a very young age after their mother is killed in the Hindu-Muslim riots. They are left homeless, without any means of feeding or sheltering themselves. Latika, a young girl who has also been orphaned, joins them. Jamal lobbies for her inclusion in their band of refugees telling Salim, “She can be our third musketeer.”

The three children are approached by a man named Maman and taken to his orphanage. They are given plenty of food and the young orphans think he must be a good man if he’s giving them this much to eat.

All the children are taught a song. Young Salim is shown assisting the men in the orphanage as a young boy performs the song. Once the boy has finished the men chloroform him and drop boiling oil by a spoon into his eyes. The rationale is that blind orphans will bring more money when begging on the streets, which is what all the orphans will be forced to do.

The men tell Salim to go get Jamal and Salim realizes instantly what they plan to do. When he goes to get Jamal, he discovers that Jamal is excited and can’t wait to sing the song, obviously knowing nothing of the plan to blind him. Salim tells Jamal to do exactly as he says and after Jamal sings, Salim reaches the hot oil first, throws it in the face of one of the men, and screams for Jamal to run, shouting “Athos.” Jamal replies “Porthos!” and takes off after him. Those are the names of two of the three musketeers.

Jamal does not want to leave Latika behind so they grab her too. Unfortunately, Jamal and Salim make it onto a train going by but Salim lets go of Latika’s hand (intentionally) and Haman and his men capture her.

Jamal and Salim survive by giving tours of the Taj Mahal (complete with facts they’ve made up) and by stealing, and then selling, the shoes of tourists. Jamal never forgets about Latika and wonders if she’s alive.

Jamal goes to where the orphans are begging and tracks down the boy who was blinded. He is singing and hoping for money. Jamal gives him a one hundred dollar bill and the blind boy asks Jamal to tell him the name of the president on the front of it. Jamal tells him “Benjamin Franklin.” Jamal asks if Latika is still alive and the blind boy says yes.

Jamal and Salim return to Mumbai in search of Latika. They find her and discover that Maman has forced her to work as a dancer in a brothel. They rescue her and as they are leaving, Maman and his men confront them. Maman says he never forgets a face but before he can do anything to Jamal, Salim, and Latika, Salim pulls a gun on Maman and forces him to his knees. Maman, upon realizing that he is not in a good position, begins to beg for his life. Salim, in what is a turning point for his character, shoots him dead because he knows that Maman will never stop trying to seek revenge on the brothers for rescuing Latika.

Even though I abhor violence and was anxious about seeing the movie because of it, I couldn’t help, even at the risk of sounding hypocritical, being happy that Salim shot Maman. Well, maybe not happy. But totally on board with it because it was necessary to ensure the survival of Jamal, Salim, and Latika. And Maman was a very bad person who got what he deserved.

After the three left, Salim got drunk and I felt like the murder he committed and the drinking was supposed to somehow signify that he no longer considered himself a child and was now a man. He also claimed Latika as his own, at least for the night, which seemed to break Jamal’s heart.

I found the duality of Salim’s character interesting. He was at times responsible for saving his brother yet also had total disregard for how some of his choices would affect Jamal.

Jamal loses track of Salim and Latika and eventually goes to work as a “tea-server” at a call center. He is asked to relieve one of the call center workers one day and while sitting at the desk, looks up his brother’s phone number and calls him.

They re-connect and Jamal learns that Salim is working for Maman’s enemy. Latika is forced to live with the man Salim works for.

Jamal goes to see her and tells her he will be waiting at the train station every day at 5:00. Latika tries to meet him but is captured again. One of the men slices her across the cheek with a large knife.

During the movie, childhood flashbacks are interspersed with Jamal answering questions on the Hindi version of Who Wants to be a Millionaire.

He is able to give the correct answers because he has encountered situations his whole life that coincidentally match up with the questions he is asked.

One of the questions is about a song and it’s the same song all the orphans learned from Haman. Another question asks whose face is on the one hundred dollar bill. He is also asked who invented the revolver (which is what Salim used to kill Haman).

At one point, Jamal goes to the bathroom during a break after he has already won quite a bit of money. The host of the show, an arrogant often hostile man (who is no Regis Philbin ) is in the bathroom at the same time as Jamal. When Jamal looks in the mirror after washing his hands, he realizes the host has written the letter B on the steamy mirror. Jamal goes back out, answers D, and gets the question right.

I knew the host was trying to give Jamal the wrong answer. I elbowed Dave in the side and said, “It’s not B, its D. There is no way, knowing what we know about Jamal’s character, that he would trust anyone, never having been able to most of his life.

The show breaks for the night, right before Jamal is asked the final question worth one million dollars. As he is heading out the back door, a hood is thrown over his head and he is transported to the police station for interrogation, as the host of the show believes he must be cheating. We’ve already seen most of the torture at the beginning of the movie and the scene ends with the Police inspector proclaiming that Jamal is telling the truth.

Salim decides to help Latika escape one more time, giving her his phone and telling her not to lose it. She tells him, “they’ll kill you” but he pushes her out the door and goes back inside.

The last question, for the million dollars, is what is the name of the third musketeer? Jamal needs to use a lifeline and the only one he has left is phone a friend. It’s Salim’s phone that rings and Latika finally answers it. Jamal is shocked that Latika, and not Salim is on the phone. He asks her who the third musketeer is and she says, “I don’t know. I never knew.” She tells him she is safe and time runs out.

Jamal doesn’t know the answer so he appears to guess (it’s Aramis). He gets it right and the audience goes crazy.

Meanwhile, Salim has locked himself in a bathroom, filled a tub with money, and waited for everyone to discover that he’s helped Latika escape. They break the door down and shoot him in a hail of bullets but not before he is able to kill the man responsible for enslaving Latika.

The movie ends with Jamal heading to the train station and this time, when Latika joins him, no one prevents them from being together.

As the final credits roll, the entire ensemble cast dances and sings in a musical number that is 100% Bollywood (I totally thought when they first started dancing that they were doing the choreography from Michael Jackson’s Thriller video but I was wrong).

This was a fantastic movie. The cinematography and the fast pace of the script kept me engaged and I never felt like the story dragged. This was also one of the most original films I have ever seen.

I think Slumdog Millionaire definitely earned the academy award for best picture. I will remember it as one of my favorite films of 2009. Go see it.

If I can handle it, anyone can.

Cupcakes, Vases, Birds, and Bees

  • March 2, 2009

My alarm goes off every weekday morning at 6:30 AM. I get up and let Chloe out and then I pour the first of eight cups of coffee (with a little soy milk) and sit down on the couch to watch the local news. Here in Iowa, our weather changes so fast, that I like to make sure I knew exactly how to dress the offspring and whether or not they will need boots, snow pants, and hats and gloves. Then, at 7:00, I watch the Today show for a half hour because Matt Lauer is hot and I need to know what’s going on nationally. Then, at 7:30, I wake up the offspring.

Today they woke up on their own and were both down on the couch with me by 7:15. They proceeded to talk so loud I couldn’t hear what hottie Matt Lauer was saying. Then Matthew demanded that I get his clothes because he wanted to get ready early so he’d have plenty of time to play Marble Blast Gold on the computer.

I told Matthew I was not doing anything until 7:30. Finally, when I was good and ready, I started our morning routine.

I am not a big fan of spending a lot of money on kid’s clothes. They are hard on them, they grow out of them almost immediately, and buying expensive stuff is like flushing money down a toilet. Old Navy and Gap are my favorites with a little Target thrown in.

I usually get the kid’s clothes ready the night before because I do want whatever they wear to match, be weather appropriate, and be wrinkle free (even though I loathe ironing I do it anyway).

However, this morning both kids did not like what I had selected and ironed the night before. Matthew’s pants “fit funny” (probably because he’s going through a growth spurt and keeps “incredible hulking” right out of his clothes). I ran upstairs and found another pair of pants that were, luckily, wrinkle free. Then he put on the new shirt I had pre-washed but hadn’t done a thorough tag-ectomy on so I had to grab the kitchen scissors and cut every possible tag off immediately.

Lauren was worse. She didn’t like her shirt because it was purple, her pants were too long, and the first sweater I picked out was too hot. I ran upstairs two more times and she finally settled on wearing black pants with a long sleeved white t-shirt and her Hawkeye jersey.

During all this up and down the stairs nonsense Matthew and Lauren took it upon themselves to get into the cupcakes Dave and Lauren made yesterday (she guilted Dave into making them by saying, “Daddy, can you please make me some egg free cupcakes? I didn‘t get to have any of the banana bread you made with Matthew the other day.”)

Then Matthew guilted Dave into making more banana bread because the bread they made the other day was “so awesome” and he wanted more.

The mess all three of them made was catastrophic and fully worthy of a haz-mat team. I refused to clean it up by myself but I wish I had insisted on loading the dishwasher because Dave loads it like a crazy person.

Therefore, even though I had offered a breakfast of smoothies and oatmeal there was no way to stop the feeding frenzy chocolate blizzard I found them in the middle of. Cupcake crumbs were flying when I returned to the kitchen.

When Lauren came back from brushing her teeth, I noticed the sleeve of her white t-shirt was covered in chocolate frosting. I went upstairs one last time, grabbed the only remaining long sleeved white t-shirt in her closet, and made her change.

I kept my cool though. Sometimes I have to remind myself that they are not intentionally trying to drive me insane. I pretended the cupcakes were the same as donuts, which, while not healthy, are in fact a common breakfast choice for lots of people, and I let it go. Luckily, we are not in the PMS zone so things went pretty smoothly for a Monday morning.

Yesterday we went to Pier 1 because I’m looking for a vase for my mantel to replace the red one with the snowflakes I’ve had up there since December. I really wanted to go alone but Dave wanted to get out of the house too and we promised Matthew and Lauren we would go to Toys ‘R Us, which is right across the parking lot from Pier 1. Matthew had a gift card to use and Lauren wanted to pick out a marble jar reward (Matthew’s reward was the aforementioned Marble Blast Gold).

When we got to Pier 1 I said, “Hey, why don’t you guys and daddy go over there and I’ll be over here looking at some vases.” I took off and when I stopped thirty seconds later to examine a vase, I was summarily rear-ended by Dave, Matthew, and Lauren (in that order).

“Why are you following me?” I asked. “Go somewhere else.”

They just kept following me anyway. Dave kept suggesting things I didn’t want and then both kids had to go to the bathroom. I finally found a vase I liked but now that I’ve put it up on the mantel, I don’t know if I like it there. I might like it somewhere else which means one vase will be the catalyst for me to move around and re-arrange every home accessory I have on my main floor.

Dave also decided to have “the talk” with Matthew over the weekend. When I met Sharon and Kathleen on Friday morning for a big gabfest, the subject of the birds and the bees came up. Kathleen has three boys, one of them older than Matthew so I asked her what age we should start talking to Matthew about sex.

“Right now,” she replied. “It’s not too early and you don’t want him to get inaccurate information on the bus or from older kids.”

I told Dave what Kathleen recommended and he went up to Matthew’s room yesterday and opened the dialogue. I told Dave that Kathleen recommended asking Matthew about what he already knew and then going from there. I also told Dave that Kathleen mentioned stopping if Matthew appeared to stop paying attention as we shouldn’t overload him all at once.

When Dave came back down, I asked him how it went. Dave said he told Matthew that there would be lots of changes going on in his body and that these changes would take several years. He told Matthew that hair would start to grow under his arms and on his penis. He also mentioned that some boys grow hair above their lips. He briefly talked about body parts and how some of them might feel good when touched and that that’s totally normal but something that should be kept private. Dave said at one point Matthew started spinning around in his swivel desk chair. When Dave asked Matthew if he had any questions, Matthew nodded. “Dad, when do you think I’ll get that moustache?”

I think that’s enough birds and bees information for one day. We’ll keep building on that and by the time Matthew turns ten this summer, we’ll hopefully have given him the information he needs to ease his way into the puberty years.

As for Dave and I, we had a great time Saturday night when we saw Slumdog Millionaire. I’m in the middle of writing my review which I’ll post later today or tomorrow.

Right now, I’ve got a vase to find a home for.

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