Don't Kiss Me Kate (Winslet)

So Tom and I were watching “The Reader” last night, starring Kate Winslet. The kids were at a sleepover, so we had a rare night to ourselves. I had read the book, so I knew what to expect plot-wise, but I was still a bit taken aback by all of the nudity. I mean, it’s a period piece, but I think they must have saved a bundle on costumes, because for the first hour, the two main characters were pretty much nude…frontal, backal, the works.

This was the closest Tom and I’ve ever come to one of “those kinds” of movies, and I wonder what my neighbors thought of the images of Kate and her teenage lover getting it on through our window on our new widescreen TV. Note: This is NOT a movie you want to watch with your friends, your neighbors, your in-laws, your brother, or even a bunch of strangers in a movie theater. I liked the movie a lot, but I’m not even sure if I was old enough to watch the steamy scenes.

Anyhoo, I don’t know if I’ve told you but Tom CANNOT stay awake during a movie. Ever. Comedy, tragedy, action—he’s snoozing within the hour. We usually stick to 30-minute sitcoms we have recorded on DVR, such as “The Office,” “Seinfeld,” and “Everybody Loves Raymond” so we can watch together.

After the first hour of skin, "The Reader" takes a dramatic twist and delves into terrible secrets related to the Holocaust. Tom was asleep and missed all it, yet I was riveted. I have studied the Holocaust extensively, and my mind was still churning as we went to bed. And if you are anything like me, you know the whirring torment of an overactive female brain at bedtime. I’ll take my overactive bladder any day.

Tom, newly refreshed from his during-movie nap was feeling a little friendly. After all, he’d just watched nooky on the screen (in HD no less), he’d missed the whole Holocaust part, and we had an empty house. Unfortunately, this did not mesh with my contemplation of the dark issues brought up in the movie.

I tried. I did. I tried.

He was all “An-na…” but I was all “Anne Frank.”

Some nights don’t turn out as planned.



p.s. I lost a reader today. Tom thinks it's probably because he/she thought I was too mean to Tom. What do you think?

I Will Pour No (Cheer-)Wine Before Its Time

Our beach trip was awesome! Just got back last night and am drowning in the sea of crap-ola that needs to be washed and then redistributed throughout the house.

Certain events yesterday made me question Tom’s sanity. I awoke for the traditional groggy “empty the fridge and pack the car” beach house routine. Our friends had already left.

In the kitchen I saw empty soda cans and beer bottles that had been in the fridge the night before. I turned to Tom, “Why the heck would the Wheelers pour out perfectly good soda and beer? Are they nuts?” I saw a flash of concern cross his face-- a look that said, “Should I play this off or tell the truth?” and he walked away.

Oh my gosh! The realization hit me: Tom had poured out perfectly good soda and beer! Not half-used, flat 2 liter bottles. Fresh, full, happy cans of deliciousness! What kind of weirdo would do that? He came back a few minutes later and confessed, adding defensively, “It’s not like it’s good for us, or anything.”

Puh-lease… an entire week of pigging out on chips and soda and drinking alcohol (I can barely zip my pants) and Tom decides to become the arbiter of all things healthy and pure?

Apparently he had started jettisoning stuff to make room in our car—the same minivan with the capacity to hold 8 dining room chairs at a time.

To highlight just how different the two of us are, I’ll tell you I had just begun one of my favorite beach rituals, divesting each of the 7 bathrooms of the spare rolls of TP and soft soap pumps. I mean, we’d brought this stuff in, and it was coming out with us. As the last folks to leave the house, we usually got whatever no one else felt like taking. Tissue boxes? Check. Half a tub of cream cheese? Where’s my cooler?

So, I had 7 hours in the car to contemplate what an oddball I’d married. When we got home, tired and grumpy and needing to throw some sort of dinner together, Tom served the kids milk from a half full jug that had been in the fridge for over 11 days. Our black beans, he covered with shredded cheese that had been open much longer than the “3-5 Days After Opening” guideline on the bag.

So, contradictory as it may seem, I wanted to avoid beach house waste at all costs, but I was not so keen on giving the kids old, out of date food from our home fridge. I’ve been known to throw out any food if I think about it too long and it grosses me out in any way.

I realize the 3-5 day thing is just a suggestion, but I always err on the side of “when in doubt, throw it out.”

This may have stemmed from my experience with a roommate who liked to leave Big Gulps on the kitchen counter for weeks at a time, and whose spaghetti sauce was a petri dish for mold. “What do you think?” she’d ask me, holding the offending item under my nose. “Get rid of it!” I’d implore, right before she’d skim the mold off the top and eat it anyway. Eww.

I guess yesterday’s events just helped emphasize AGAIN how Tom and I wired differently. Some things I do are quite thrifty, while others might appear a tad wasteful (in a sane, keeping the children from succumbing to botulism kind of way), but they ALL make sense to me. His ways make perfect sense to him.

I do still feel sad about those hapless sodas opened, dumped, crumpled, and discarded way before their time, without ever having the chance to give the pleasure of a good
caffeine buzz.

If The Hat Fits, Don't Wear It Part II

I’m at the beach all week, so I’ll be absent blog-wise.

Just checked my email and my very best friend from jr. high and high school had her sister send me this picture since I somehow "lost" my 8th grade yearbook. Thanks Lisa G!

This yearbook photo documents that I did, indeed, wear a HAT ON PICTURE DAY! Yikes. Yes, I'm the 45 year old woman in that photo who apparently takes her job in the school newsroom VERY seriously.

I hope you’ll have a chance today to read about the Picture Day Debacle.

And if you do, please don't ask why I'm wearing an entirely different outfit in my individual school picture. Some things have been blocked from memory and should not be delved into outside of a therapist's office.

At the beach this week I’m sporting my skirted bathing suit, a long sleeved swim shirt and a jaunty mom-hat. I guess some things don’t change.

DIY Day-- Dumpster Dive Edition

Here's my latest dumpster dive project. I pulled this chair out someone's trash. I liked the shape, but the suede was marked on with pen and had a few small tears. The picture doesn't really show the stains, but trust me on this one. I also thought it looked a little formal for me.

I glued the ripped suede down with a glue gun and then spray painted the entire chair, suede and all, with my favorite Heirloom White spray paint. The arms got oversprayed b/c I was trying to cover up some pretty gross stains and got carried away.

If I had it to do over again, I would have at least tried to clean the suede before I started spraying. It has kind of a mottled look about it, which I like.

Molly doesn't like how the paint feels on her feet when she stands on the chair in her dirty bare feet to look at herself in the mirror each day. Hmmmph!

And Tom thinks it looks a little trashy.

But I'm loving it! And even if it's not our most dramatic transformation, or the loveliest piece of furniture in the house:

1. it was free

2. it is comfortable

3. it's not in a landfill

4. the whole project took under 5 minutes, if you don't count the minute it took to wrangle it into my car

5. the living room isn't lit well enough for close inspection anyway

Be sure to check out the other DIY projects at Kimba's blog.

Smart Girl

I complimented Molly on the fact that not only is she intelligent, but she also has high E Q.

Molly: What do you mean?

Anna: Well, you notice people. If you meet someone, you usually remember his or her name. You observe whether people are making good and bad decisions. You are good at getting yourself out of situations that make you uncomfortable.

This is because you have high ‘EQ.’ I think it will help you as you get older if you are with people who are about to make a bad choice.

Molly:

Oh! You mean like if they say, “Let’s steal a van and do graffiti and go into those big drainpipes to eat Pixie Sticks. And, by the way, someone better bring the extra cigarettes.”

Exactly, Molly. Exactly.

Don't Judge a Book...

I am so sick of the library. I tried to be virtuous and get the kids plenty of books to read this summer. What did I get in return? Fines. Fines. Fines.

You would think I would have learned my lesson after my $18.75 in fines in July, but did I? No. I proceeded to check out 4 more books that are now late. One is AWOL, and I fear it could be in CT, Cleveland, PA, or all manner of places we don’t actually live. I scoured the minivan without success.

Did the kids actually read any of these books? No. Jake just finished the Harry Potter series, which we own, and is into “The 39 Clues,” a new series that is virtually impossible to get at the library. Plus it comes with little playing cards, so you'll want your own set. I am purchasing them one by one. Yep, there will be 39 books in all. That’s almost $400 by the time he’s finished. Somewhere a marketing genius is laughing at me. At least Jake's reading.

And Molly? Hasn’t found a series to spark her interest, which is why I keep going back to the library for yet more options. Aargh. Even Blockbuster seems more forgiving of this mom’s feeble attempts to keep it together this summer.

Tom’s response when I told him we had more fees? “Now that’s just irresponsible.” Thanks, dear.

In 10 years of libraries and story times and keeping the kids quiet and tracking our books, we have had to pay for 2 items. One, when TOM left a cassette tape (yes, we're showing our age) in a beach house tape player and two, when Molly barfed on Amelia Bedelia. If you ask me, I'm doing pretty well.

See if I try to stimulate your kids’ brains in the summer again. It’s TiVo from here on out.

And I Skipped Breakfast for This?

8 a.m. Friday and already have feet in the stirrups and someone’s hands in my goods. Got to love those summer doc appointments. Next week? The dentist.