Yes, I Used to Work At Blockbuster

A chilly Spring Break means movie time at the See house.

I thought I’d share with you some older movies we have enjoyed that may be off your radar. Because movie ratings have changed over the years, I’ve noticed that some older PG movies have bad language in them, so I would strongly suggest reading movie reviews from a site like Movie Mom before choosing for your family.

I have found that putting up with a few damns and hells has given us the chance to see movies with much better plots than some of the crapola being made right now (you know—all parents are idiots, the only things kids care about are dating and clothes-- basically anything on Nick or Disney Channel). It’s nice to find movies that I want to watch with the kids.

Once again, please check out movie reviews first. I mean, how many of us were scared to death by POLTERGEIST (1982)? That had a PG rating!

So, like us, you’ve probably enjoyed revisiting the “Free Willy” movies and “E.T.” Here are some other family movies we have enjoyed.

“The Rookie” (2002) Dennis Quaid, baseball coach and dad, gets a second chance at pro baseball.

“A Little Princess” (1995) Gorgeous version of Frances Hodgsen Burnett’s classic.

“Miracle” (2004) Kurt Russell plays the coach of the victorious 1980 USA Olympic Hockey Team. Note: Hockey language included.

“Dreamer” (2005) Dakota Fanning, Kurt Russell, save an injured racehorse and mend their relationship.

“Fly Away Home” (1996) A girl saves a flock of geese by guiding them south and develops a strong relationship with her father.

“Believe in Me” (2006) Small town doesn’t believe in girls’ sports. Cutie-pie actor from “Burn Notice” plays their inspiring coach. Note: Rough language, and teen pregnancy alert!

All the “Shiloh” movies.

And you may remember

"My Dog Skip." I loved it, but the implied elderly doggie death at the very end sent Molly into hysterics.



What older family movies do you like?

We'll Miss You

A friend died two weeks ago. Because she confided in me a little bit, I knew she was sick, but I didn’t realize she was sick-sick. My friend was funny and serious, playful and stern. Her laugh, once she got rolling, was infectious. When we went to meetings together, she asked the hard questions. She was fun to sit next to, and we liked making snarky comments with each other. She was so involved in our church I wondered how she made it all work, with a full-time job, a family, and so many other commitments.

Because our church community is large, it wasn’t that hard for her to keep her illness quiet. With 3 different Sunday services, and people coming and going in our busy metropolitan area, you can go weeks or months without bumping into people. While this is NOT conducive to a caring, nurturing environment, it helped my friend stay under the radar her last few months on earth.

On a Wednesday, I found out she was going into Hospice care. On Thursday I learned she was already gone.

I’ve been thinking about my friend, and the way she handled her illness and death. A few months ago, when she shared with me, but told me not to tell anyone, she explained, “I don’t want people to see me as a sick person. I don’t want that to define my interactions with them.” I got it. I respected it. My friend lived and died on her own terms. It was so… HER.

My own mother, who died at age 46, didn’t know she was sick-sick. She had a ton of friends and well-wishers who wanted to visit her in the hospital while she was undergoing tests. She could have easily been overwhelmed with visitors, but instead she opted for a no-visitor policy.

Did she not want to be seen in a vulnerable state, teeth unbrushed, hanging out of a skimpy hospital gown? Was she afraid of being worn out? Maybe. But really, there was one nosy friend who volunteered at the hospital, and Mom thought it was important enough for her health and well being, to exclude ALL visitors rather than have this one woman poking her head in and out. This was in the ‘80’s, and I don’t know what we called “friends” like that then, but I believe now we call them “Frenemies.”

While I understood and respected my mom’s choice, and my friend’s as well, I’ve been witnessing the aftermath in our church community. There is a lot of shock. And pain. People wished they had known and could have sent cards. They wish they could have supported my friend’s husband and kids with meals. They wanted the chance to pray.

Reaching out to those in hardship helps those in need, but it helps the friends too. Doing something tangible may not change the end results in an illness, but it can make it feel as if we are coming alongside a friend on her final journey.

Christians are called to be Christ’s hands and feet on this earth. We are called to DO for others in need. Sometimes we answer the call, sometimes we fail miserably,
and sometimes we aren’t given the chance. I believe my friend handled her death in a way that was right for her. No sappy sentiments, no hand wringing, no goodbyes.

I just hope she knows how much she was loved.



P.S. For those of you who are dealing with the end of life of a loved one, I recommend a book I read recently. A Sacred Walk by Donna Authers.

Random Friday Round-Up

So, in an effort to prove my life isn't solely defined by craptastic meat-buying binges, I thought I'd share a few highlights of the week.

Here's a pic of the meat; not a highlight, but definitely notable:

We continued on in the No Cavity Club. Molly is excited. Jake is concerned. He wants to voluntarily drop out, despite his excellent oral hygiene, because he thinks it's just "too stressful" waiting to find out if he has a cavity.

We moved from Cub Scouts (5 years of it!) to Boy Scouts. During the ceremony, when Jake pinned a gold pin on my shirt to thank me for all I had done to help him, I knew I didn't deserve it. Thanks, Tom, for pulling him through. I'm glad you know how to tie a knot.


Jake successfully lobbied his friends and relatives to give him money for his birthday, so he could buy this Lego set. Yep, more than 6,000 pieces. We didn't see him for a couple of days while he built it.


We brought one of my latest "dumpster dives" inside. It's a rusted little greenhouse thingy I found curbside. Right now it is housing Molly's 3rd grade Cabbage Project. Any suggestions for fixing it up, or should I leave it as is?

And today's big news. As you know, I NEVER fall for marketing ploys. Today I purchased my very own pair of Reebok Easy Tones. Guaranteed to tighten my butt as I go about my daily business. Here I am walking the dog in my new shoes.

Guess Whose Doctor Told Her to Lose 15 Pounds?

Yep, Shadow's in the dog house.

Guess I'm not the only one who did a lot of mindless eating this winter.

It Said "Monet" in the Corner-- just kidding

We're up to $887 for our Water campaign! I am so grateful to everyone who has contributed.

We have 76 days left raise the $5,000 needed to build a well in Africa. Woohooo!

Current Action:

Tom had some softball buddies over on Saturday night for a fooseball, air hockey and wii tournament. They chipped in $20 for the well and another $50 is on its way.

My neighbor gave me a small oil painting to sell in our huge yard sale. Don't even get me started on the nickel and diming people do at yard sales. It. Bugs. Me. The frame alone was worth something, so I decided to try Craiglist and just sold it for $30!

Of course now I'm having seller's remorse. We've all heard about the people who found a Degas in their basement or a Van Gogh on the street in NYC because some idiot didn't know what she had. I am probably that idiot.

You see, when I'm ready to get rid of something, I do it. I love to donate current stuff so I can get more, usually junkier, stuff. If I want to spray paint it, I do, regardless of the value. My dear mom had a very close relationship with Mod Podge, spray paint, and Contact Paper, so apparently the apple doesn't fall far from the tree...

Anyway, if I had kept that painting for myself, I probably would have spray painted over it because if you look closely, there are 3 creepy guys standing in that field of flowers. Perverts? Scarecrows? I just don't know.

Local friends are dropping stuff off in my carport in the next two weeks for the yard sale. If you live elsewhere, maybe there's a creative way you could drum up $10 or $15 to help provide a village with water.

Here's the donation page: http://mycharitywater.org/theyearoflivinggenerously

It All Makes Sense Now

When you entered our lives 11 years ago, the kingdom celebrated with banners and trumpet song. You brought a joy to us beyond what we had ever imagined or experienced before.

We served you with delight; your interests became our interests, your passions our passions, whether it was Thomas the Tank Engine, or more recently, Legos. We read what you read. We watched what you watched. We eagerly awaited your next decree: "No hamburgers!" "No soccer!" "No early mornings!"

The depth of your strong emotions seemed to come from a place more regal than just a middle class, suburban family. Were you a changeling? Did you know something we did not know?

When you had a good day, all was right with the world. When your mood turned melancholy, the entire kingdom suffered. Our schedules, our rhythms, orbited around your young, brilliant sun.

We wondered endlessly: Were you properly fed, attired, rested?

Some days it felt as if the kingdom was being ruled, albeit benevolently, by a tiny dictator.

The way you would walk away from an open car door, not bothering to shut it, and the manner in which you would call out, "Where are my shoes?" when surely you were the only one who would know such a thing, were certain signs of someone of noble birth, who need not be bothered with the minutiae of daily life.

And now that the Day of the 5th Grade Medieval Feast is upon us and you have been appointed Lord of the Manor, it all makes perfect sense.

Lord Jake, as your humble servants we ask you to continue to shine your favor upon us.

Love,

Mom, Dad, and Molly

p.s. At least I didn't have to make Chicken Pudding this year.

Do a Friend a Favor...

Please oh please if you saw me at the bank, or at work, or at the grocery store, or at the kids' schools, or at church in the last 3 weeks-- please oh please assure me that the 2 inch long white hair I just discovered poking out of my upper cheek was not there. I am going with the theory that it sprang up overnight.

Thanks.