Making Friends on a Friday Night

We're exciting around here.  I found myself baking banana bread at nine tonight.  Mister Man and The Redhead watched Honey, I Shrunk The Kids, and oh yeah, we made a new friend this evening.

This is Chuck.  Not the car.  The bird that's blending in with the concrete.

And yes, we know fully just how ugly our driveway is.

But Chuck is really cute.

He is a chukar partridge, discovered all thanks to Mister Man's father.  It helps having a birder in the family.

For a while, we thought this little guy might belong to someone.  So we even considered bringing him inside.

We didn't want anything happening to him.

He was quite friendly.

And he enjoyed hanging out.

He felt welcomed at our house.

Alexandra wanted to hang out with Chuck as well.

And these two couldn't stop watching him.

You can't quite see it, but he was enjoying one of my glass dishes.  He both drank out of it and bathed in it.

After some research, we discovered he liked eating clover.  And peanuts.

The Redhead thought we should keep him.  But we declined.

Chuck eventually left out house to see if the grasses were indeed greener on the other side.  But we sure loved the visit.

Antique Shopping with my Cellphone

You just never know what you might find when you're antique shopping.  Luckily, most of us can't go anywhere without our cellphones so we can find ways of capturing these memories through photos, texts, e-mails, and in the "notes" section of our phones.  And doing my best to fit in with society, or perhaps merely a coincidence, I did indeed capture some favorite finds I saw during a browsing trip back in January.

Because who couldn't use some Nazi memorabilia to add to their ever-growing collection?

Oh, you already have all the Nazi memorabilia you need?  Well, how about a blood bath?

Or a cathouse?

It was a steal at $30!

Funeral parking sign?  

(I would love to have bought that...had it not been $199.99.)

And I remember this cereal!  And I even remember the flashlights that came with the cereal.  

And yes, I had some.  Of course, I did.

I'll be honest, I do think that would look lovely in one of our bathrooms.

And that nuclear looking glass is amazing.  Every household needs some.

And who couldn't use their very own scarlet letter????!

And surprise, surprise.  Even after finding all of those lovely treasures, we still managed to walk away empty handed.  Although...I'm still tempted to see if my cat house is still there.

The California Way

We heard from our softball coach today.  Tomorrow we have a mandatory parent meeting.  At 5:30.  And we just found out about it.  And while this kind of annoys me....it appears to be the California way.  It is not uncommon for the school to announce things last minute.  Or to get birthday invitations within a day or two's notice.  On weekends, people don't really seem to show up until the afternoons.  And no one appears to make advanced plans.

This is all the California way.

Being a planner, and not just one of those people who call themselves a planner...no, a genuine planner....with notebooks and "write to-do list," on her "to-do list" kind of planner....this is the hardest concept I've had to face since moving to the west coast.  I welcome the weather.  I think even the change of pace is at times good for me.  But last minute plans? DRIVES ME MAD.  How can you tell me something is mandatory or that I need to be there when you told me the day before? HELLO?! Do they not make plans  in advance? On a Friday night?!  Well, apparently they do...just the day before.

Saying or typing that this is irritating to me is an understatement.

I just don't know how to live like that.  But I've had to adjust in the last year and a half.  I just hope it doesn't become a habit, become my lifestyle.  Even if it is the California way.

Paging Dr. Grey

I was sitting in this waiting room of sorts while The Redhead was in her vocal class.  I brought my pal Harry along in his Chamber of Secrets and a notepad.  I was minding my own business hanging out with Harry, jotting down notes for an upcoming party, and I start to find myself listening to a conversation taking place.  Not that it was my fault.  It was sort of hard not to hear this conversation.  And it was definitely impossible  not to listen to it.


There was a teenage ballerina that had joined the waiting room group of ladies.  And before you knew it, this ballerina was going on about Grey's Anatomy.  I didn't hear any of it in the beginning, but then I was fairly sure I heard something about her being qualified as a doctor.  And I'm sure I had misheard.  Or perhaps she was kidding.  But then I heard her talking about how she watches Grey's Anatomy enough that she's just as qualified as any doctor.  She could enter any ER, any operating room, and know exactly what to do.  After all, she knows most of the codes now, thanks to Grey's Anatomy.  And yes, I thought she was kidding too.  But as she continued, I realized, the only ones who were kidding were the women contributing to the conversation...not the teenage ballerina.



First off, she said blood doesn't really bother her because she's seen it enough on television.  "And Grey's Anatomy is realistic you know, just like real life."  Second, her mother said, "I have two words for you- 'AP Biology.'"  The girl kept attempting, "but, but but," and the mother kept repeating those two words over and over.  Apparently AP biology didn't go very well and the girl tried saying AP Biology didn't matter and that it's barely part of being a doctor, and the mother assured her the classes in medical school would be far worse.  But this teenage ballerina was convinced she was fully capable of being a doctor, even without medical school.  Apparently all you need is a lab coat, at least according to her.  At least that's all she needed.


Another helpful woman was suggesting a medical field "less difficult, like sports medicine or something," which made me laugh as I attempted to pretend I was still reading my book.  The teenage ballerina's mother kept shaking her head and repeating how awful AP Biology went.  Meanwhile, the teenage ballerina was still citing all the ways Grey's Anatomy had trained her in her future career as a doctor.  She even now knew how to save someone's life in an elevator.  Someone asked how often that is needed and she replied, "more than you'd think."


While I'm sure she's not the only person who thinks they're more than qualified to be a doctor after watching a television drama, I'm really hoping she keeps those mad skills to herself...or to the dance floor...or to her imagination.  Because medical school exists for a reason.  No matter how "accurate" and "realistic" a nighttime soap opera may seem.

Stay Weird, My Dear, Stay Different

If I was only allowed to give The Redhead two words of advice, I would stick with the cliche, "be yourself." I wouldn't be clever enough to say it any differently, but please know, I would mean it as "stay weird," "be free," "stay different," "be happy," "be you."



If you are friends with me on Facebook, this is going to feel repetitive, but I feel like messages such as these could never be repeated enough.  




Graham Moore won the Oscar Sunday night for best adapted screenplay for The Imitation Game, a screenplay that was once on the Black List of the best screenplays that had yet to be produced.  Obviously, it was rightly placed on that list since it has now been produced, was an amazing movie, and he now has a highly coveted golden statue named Oscar as his very own.  But Graham Moore wasn't the true winner that night.  Every viewer was.  If you were watching, probably like most viewers, you were moved to tears during his acceptance.  He was inspiring to the world with his "stay weird, stay different" message and it's currently trending for a reason.  He was ever so brave on that stage, taking his moment to shine to not only win graciously, but to share his almost suicide at sixteen, to remind us all Alan Turing did not have the same freedoms people are allowed today, and most of all, to remind youth to be themselves.



I have a confession.  I was actually privately thinking Whiplash was going to win.  I'm ashamed of that now.  Not because Whiplash wasn't wonderful and the screenplay wasn't fantastic.  No.  I'm ashamed because I would have missed out on the beauty in his words.  The world would have missed out on his fast-paced, eloquent wording, so gracious, so humbling.  And he deserved that win.  And most of all, we all deserved to hear his words.  They were such necessary words.


And I hope The Redhead will never hear these words enough.  From me. From her father. From you.  I hope she always feels like above everything, she can be who she wants to be, who she already is, who she sees herself.  Quirks and all.  I hope she knows that we never expect her to be anything more or anything less.  Although it worries me greatly the pressure she puts on herself, and I worry she thinks it's expected, I've also realized that perhaps that pressure is part of who she is.  For better or for worse.  That drive.  And I hope she puts that pressure on herself more for her than for us.  But regardless, I just want to be here for the moments she does fall, she does fail, when the hard work isn't enough.  And I want to be there when it is.  And I want her to know that we know she has the map to the path she's on, as she's always sort of gone her own way.  We just want to follow her.  She doesn't need us always showing her the way.  She has this.  I know that.  And when she gets lost from time to time, I want to offer a flashlight.  Because she's going to need that more than directions.  Because sometimes, all we need in life is to have a light reminding of us of who we are, and the path in front of us, but instead, people want to give us a new map, with new directions and tell us how we let ourselves stray.


I want The Redhead to know she is amazing for many reasons.  There isn't just one thing that defines her. Not her hair, not her curls, not her dimples, freckles, not her love of science, or her high reading level.  She's not defined by her tiny stature, or slightly hoarse voice, her love of plush animals, her lack of dolls, her favorite color of blue, or the face she makes when she thinks she's getting in trouble.  And we love her for so much more than she is.  The only expectation I have for her is to stay who she is, no matter how she evolves, no matter how she changes, no matter what that means.  I want her to know she doesn't have to fit into any societal mold.  I want her to know our idea of the perfect child is her, no matter the imperfections.



And I hope most parents feel that way.  Maybe you'll think in your head that all parents feel that way.  And I don't know if I agree with you.  I've met too many people who have already mapped the road for their children.  I've met a couple people who have actually said to me that the worst thing for their child would be to be gay, while I said, "for me, the worst thing would be for my child to be dead."  They both commented "well, you know what I mean."  And no, no I didn't.  Because for me, I understand to a degree wanting your child to fit in....but I don't want my child feeling as though she ever has to hide.  I don't want her feeling like she has to be somebody she's not.  I want her to be content.


We all want that right?



There's been a trend of parenting in the news lately for allowing their young transgender children to become the people they see themselves.  Maybe you're unfamiliar with this, so I'll explain it in simpleton terms.  You thought you had a son, but your son is actually female on the inside.  These parents then allowed their children to start dressing the part, being the part, being the person they always were anyway.  This sparked an outrage among some conservative parents saying, "they're confusing their children further, they're encouraging this, it's just a phase."  Hey, you know what?! What if it is just a phase?! Then how about you let that "phase" play out....  Maybe they'll "outgrow it," maybe they won't.  But not allowing children to have their so-called "phases" only stunts their growth and development anyway.  And have you ever heard the phrase "choosing your battles"?  Yeah....


And what's a greater battle than being your true self?  What's a greater battle than making sure your child knows they can be their true self?  Regardless of what their friends think.  Other family members. Their teachers.  Even you.  Gosh, if as parents we didn't have enough issues....we have to make sure our children know their purpose, their desires, their goals are even more important than what they think we might think.  What their friends might think.  Uphill battle, definitely.



But there's light at the end of that tunnel.  And maybe our kids won't end up winning an Academy Award.  Maybe that's not their dream.  But they will win.  Even when they don't.  Because they're themselves. No matter how weird, or how different, or how "normal" they are.  Whether they're popular or not.  Whether they fit some sort of standard.  Whether they're a cheerleader or the captain of the football team.  Whether they're valedictorian.  Even if they're #816 in their class of 1,200.  There's only one valedictorian of a class, usually.  There's usually only one captain of a sports team.  And most of all, there's only one version of you, of your child, of each of us.  Even when we change.  Even when we lose.  But if you don't allow failure, you can't allow success.  So, as another person stealing Graham Moore's beautiful poetic words, "stay weird, stay different."  Because we all win.  And that's wonderful.

Terra Nova Hudson

20 hrs · 

was moved to tears last night while watching the Academy Awards. Graham Moore may have won the Oscar for adapted screenplay, but the viewers are the ones who really won. He was inspiring with his message to "stay weird, stay different." So for all the parents out there who hope for their kids to only be "normal," popular, the standard....she of course has been the odd one. Because she hopes The Redhead always stays different, weird, special....herself. Because that's where the success comes. The special. The awesome. Because whether your kid is a genius, straight, gay, a model, famous....they should be themselves. And when that happens, when that is allowed, that's when we all win.

Family Life, Scripted

Last year, The Redhead first learned of "the change."  The big change.  Not the change involving moving to California.  Oh no.  She learned about THE CHANGE for women....that time good ol' Aunt Flo comes to visit.  She didn't learn this from experience, as she is still very much our little girl, rather, she learned this at school in a program they refer to as "Family Life."  And this year, "Family Life" came up again, and just like last year, she insisted she attend.



Strangely, she was very excited about this.  And I still have no idea as to why.



So...on January 23rd, 22 days ago, I retrieved The Redhead from school and asked how her day was.  One of her friends was walking with us, and The Redhead says to me, "Let's just say there's an us and them."




And apparently this year's "Family Life" was much more in depth.  There was a shock factor there for both girls.  As well as myself.



"We didn't see it coming."  The Redhead just kept shaking her head.



Then she told me, "this is exactly how it went down in class."  But then she didn't follow much with that.  Then I asked her if we'd discuss it further at home and she said, "yes, yes we will."



I'm such a lucky mother in the fact that my kid tells me all the dirty little details.  And maybe in a few years she won't, and I guess I have to accept that, but for the moment, I'm going to cherish everything she will tell me.  I'm also grateful for the fact that not only does she share these moments with me, but she allows me to take notes, verbatim, of the entire conversation.  She has accepted her mother's insanity.  And I'm still curious as to why.






This takes place in our living room, The Redhead pacing around the room.

The Redhead

Do you want to know all of it?

The Mother

  I want to know what you want to tell me.

The Redhead

 Puberty.  They had this video and the characters were all so excited about it.  Good job!  You had your period! That's amazing!  Your breasts are developing!  We talked about tampons and pads and apparently tampons can be really bad.  Because there's, I guess there's some sort of disease you can get from keeping it in too long.  One new thing.  We found out how exactly tampons work.  Apparently you, oh this is nasty, apparently you stick it halfway up your...you know..AND then you push on the string part and the plastic part comes out and then you leave it in for awhile, an hour or two. Which in my opinion is absolutely nasty.  And also we learned how to make babies.

The Redhead's cheeks reddened.  The mother was thinking in her head how she really hoped they explained the stork delivery service or molding babies out of Play-doh.  The Redhead continued to pace.

The Redhead

  Apparently women have egg sacs and oh, this is nasty.  Men have something called sperm.  

The Redhead giggles.

The Redhead

  Which, how should I put this, gives life to an egg. That's the best way I could put it. 

The Redhead continues to giggle while pacing.

The Redhead

And if a guy doesn't have a sperm which gives life to the baby...dun dun dun....period.  Then that's how periods are made.  How they happen anyway.  And we also learned the age group you start puberty.  

The Mother

  You learned that last year.

The Redhead

  I can't remember from that long ago.  This year, nine to twelve, no, thirteen.  We also learned that men have something called...(clenches face)...a penis. (Snickers)  Which is apparently....how they pee.  We learned some other stuff about girls and boys.  But that's pretty much all we learned about.  It was still fine.

Thank you school system for relieving this mother of such an awkward future conversation with my child.  Although, let's be honest.  Most children learn this from their friends, or in my case, cousins.  I'm grateful The Redhead will not learn such things in that manner.  Instead, she spent a small moment pacing the floor in our living room, reddened cheeks ablaze, regurgitating all information, willingly.  The fact she does this so openly and honestly without pause amazes me.  Maybe not all parents would feel the same, but chances are, their kids are learning these things from their friends and cousins.  So I guess it's all about perspective...

Put Up your F__________ cart!

Read the subject of this post out loud.  Do you pause at the "F______"?  Do you say "phlblank"?  It'd be awesome if you did, because that's what I would do.  Or...you can use any of these choice words (which aren't necessarily words):

Flippin'

Freakin' 

Friggin'

Flabbergastin'

Filliwackin'

Fabulous

Fantastic

Fluid

Favorable

Finnish

Flying

Feel free to make up your own.  I encourage you.

Now that I've gotten that out my system, or at least partially, as "F" words are still bouncing around in my brain like millions of well, bouncing balls, I will attempt to get to the actual point.  If there even is a point....

And I assure to you there is.

Fewer things tick me off more than when I pull into a parking spot and there's a cart blocking the way.  Which happened last week.  Or when I'm backing out, and there's a cart in my blind spot, actually in the corner slightly behind my car....which just happened Monday.  Okay, so to the __  (and I'm going to leave this blank because my mother-in-law reads this and she needs to think of my vocabulary as pure and decent, or rather I need to think she thinks that )____ who do things like that.....I don't like you. And I think you should put your cart away.  Properly.  

They don't keep those cart corrals out there merely for you to ding your car doors on them.  Or throw trash in them.  Or leave your empty cardboard boxes.  Which just this week, I've witnessed all of the above.  Just like every other week.

Why do people have to be so lazy and inconsiderate?  Because really, seriously, pushing your cart back into its home, isn't that difficult.  I promise.  And if it is, then how about not getting a cart?  Or carrying your bags out and leaving the cart inside?  Or how about not being a jerk?  Do you really need to push a cart around just for your purse?  Don't answer that.  Please.

As for people who will retort something about them not wanting to take away the jobs of cart pushers... Oh please.  Like that's why you do it.  You couldn't care less about those people.  You're like the rest of us who get annoyed as we're waiting to pull out of our parking spots, but can't because the cart pusher and his trolley of fun are behind your vehicle taking their nice sweet time.  So you get impatient.  Sometimes you honk.  I haven't, but then again, I also put my carts up.  In fact, I rarely take carts, and when I do, I either leave them inside or push them right back inside.  It's great exercise.  But to the person who leaves their cart out in the parking lot, I'm guessing if you don't care what damage it does to somebody else's car, or takes much needed parking spots, you really don't care about the poor sap who is taking those carts back into the store for less than $8.00 an hour.  

And really, I don't like you. You abandoned your cart and then it's in my way. What other things have you abandoned so carelessly and callously in your life?  Do I even want to know?

I would wish you a life of disease and heartache, but that wouldn't be nice.  And being careless and uncouth seems like a terrible enough punishment for the rest of your life.  So....I'll leave that one to Karma.  Because when it's windy and those free carts go flying...they just might hit your car this time.  And while you'll blame the store, guess what? They're not actually responsible.  So have fun with that.  And next time, maybe next time, you'll muster up the energy to put your f____ cart up.

Just Let Them Read

A couple months back, I overheard a conversation a school aide was having with a student at the book fair.  He picked out a Minecraft book and she was explaining to him that it wasn't in his reading level and he should pick out a different book.  He clutched that book even tighter.  Then the librarian intervened. Oh, thank goodness.  Except, she also told him he needed to find a different book.  Sure, he had enough money.  Sure, that was the book on his list that his parents signed.  However, they were both so fixated on this reading level babble that they couldn't see what this was truly about.



This was about a book.  And a boy.



Sure, it's a Minecraft book.  Perhaps he can't actually read it.  But do you know what? That shouldn't matter. Not even in the slightest.  Because as long as he has the passion to read that book, he's going to most likely read it someday.  Maybe even this year.  So no matter how many police books, Ninja Turtles, superheroes, and car books you shove at him, he wants that one.  And they should have let him buy it.  After all, his parents sent him in there to buy that particular book, a purchase that was benefiting the school library.  He didn't want any other books.  And telling him he could just ask his parents to buy it at Barnes and Noble is revolting!  Again, you should be encouraging him to branch out from his reading level.  You should allow him to support the book fair.  You should be praising his passion.



It was about a book.  It was about a boy.  And kids who are passionate about books read them.



And they should have let him buy it so he could read it.



I don't care if it's a strategy handbook for a game.  It doesn't matter.  Reading is reading.  It's a gateway to an experience not enough people allow themselves.  Whether it's a comic book, a drawing book, or a simple picture book.  Let children read.  Encourage them.  Maybe they won't end up on a high school reading level like The Redhead, but you know what? They will certainly enjoy themselves.  They will love those books.  They'll read other books similar to the one they loved.  Maybe they won't love all of the books.  But kids who aren't encouraged end up not reading.


We have a whole different issue with The Redhead.  Not all books in her range are appropriate for her age.  Not all of the books she reads would be deemed appropriate by most parents.  I know plenty of people who liken the Harry Potter series to witchcraft and blasphemy.  She read the entire series and finished it early into her ninth year.  She also recently completed The Hunger Games series, a series that is actually below her reading level range, and a set of books I definitely wouldn't recommend for all children her age.  She is now on the second book in The Maze Runner series.  In this case, it's a good idea to read these books first.  Find out if your child is ready for the violence, the subject matter, the drama.  Only a parent would know if it's appropriate for their child, which is exactly why I never tell people, "sure, your kid is ready for that book."  I wouldn't dare.  But if your kid is interested in one of those series....you should definitely find out if they're ready to actually read them.  You don't want to lose that narrow window of opportunity, of their interest.  Because once it's gone...it's gone.



So again I type: Let them read.  It'll be okay, I promise.  I promise that even though that child can't quite read the words on those pages, the world won't end.  Maybe he'll just have to have his parents read those pages to him for now.  And hey! That's wonderful too!  We've been reading to The Redhead since in utero. She has always had an appreciation for books, at least since infancy.  I have no idea what she thought while hanging out in the womb.  But reading to your child leads to them eventually doing it on their own.  Whether they read at age three, age four, age five...or at any other age.  Whether they struggle for years.  They will get there.  But they need encouragement. Please don't misunderstand that for serious pushing, because I think of that as a whole other issue.  One that can be just as severe as discouragement.  Just encourage them.



Just give them books.  Let them pick out their own books.  And just let them read.  Even if they don't want to read The Little House on the Prairie series.  Which I wouldn't know anything about....

American Sniper and a Fake Baby

American Sniper.  I've seen the posters for a while now and I wasn't sure what sort of movie it'd be.  Would it be worth watching? Well, throw in an Oscar nomination and there I was, ready to watch it, breaking my own rule of not watching intense, war movies in theater.  I can't usually handle them, but seeing Bradley Cooper on the screen before he loses his third attempt at an Oscar statue?  In a row?  Okay, I was in.



What I didn't expect was a theater full of people.  Twelve minutes before the movie started, I was stuck in the third row from the screen.  And that's in California.  Sure, in Kansas I would have been stuck on the floor, but in California, few people show up to movies early.  At least to any of my theaters.  This was in the largest theater and it was a packed mad house.  It reminded me of the time I finally went to watch the Blind Side and I had to sit in the very front row in the largest theater...four weeks after the movie had initially come out.  And I go see movies alone, so if one person has trouble finding a seat...you know it's packed.



American Sniper has made $105 million in one weekend, or $107 million, depending on the articles you read.  Either way, that's a lot of money for a January release.  The only movies that come out in January are typically Oscar flicks and bad movies.  But neither ones make much money.  Why is it making so much money?  Well, it is a patriotic film.  It's a war movie.  Clint Eastwood directed it.  I would say it's because it's Oscar nominated, but that rarely has much to do with getting the crowds in.  I don't care what anyone says.  I see a lot of movies, I'm fairly privy to these things.



It may have helped that Michael Moore called snipers cowards and that caused an uproar, as his comments often do.  Either no one listens to him...or they get mad over a few words.  I don't see how a sniper in war is a coward, honestly.  But that was Michael Moore's Freedom of Speech in place, and remember, it's still Freedom of Speech, even if you disagree with what they're saying.  So to all those people in my Facebook feed damning Michael Moore and Seth Rogen to untimely deaths....it's Freedom of Speech when the people you support say asinine things....it's still Freedom of Speech now.  Really. Seriously. I'm serious here.  It'll be okay, I promise.



So maybe those remarks that stirred such an outrage also sparked the huge demand at the box office.  It's possible.




Maybe it's the idea of everyone being able to cheer in unison when an Iraqi sniper is finally shot.  YAY! Cheer!  I didn't cheer though.  I'm the crazy liberal who believes there are typically no winners in war and that that guy believed just as much in what he was doing as the American soldiers.  But the crowd cheers anyway! YAY! Isn't blood great?!


Don't get me wrong, it was a good film.  I'm sure that's why so many people are pouring in to see it.



Or maybe, just maybe it's because of something else.





Something else not expected in an Oscar-nominated film.




Something that will steal my focus in a film that requires much of my attention?





What....?



What in front of my wandering eyes did appear...?




What...?!






IS THAT A FAKE BABY SIENNA MILLER IS PRETENDING TO BREASTFEED?



AND NOW IS BRADLEY COOPER HOLDING THAT FAKE BABY?!


OH PLEASE STOP WITH THE FAKE BABY, I'M TRYING HARD NOT TO LAUGH.



So....it's a very serious moment in the film, and here is the dreaded emotional lull.  I don't do well in emotional moments in film anyway.  The chick dying of cancer? I start giggling. Seriously.  Uncomfortable, emotional silence and I start giggling.  Add in an obviously fake baby?  A disgustingly fake plastic baby?  Oh man.  I was trying to hold back my giggles so much so I started choking.  And it's a packed theater.  I could hardly contain myself.  This emotional moment between the two stars and my eyes won't leave the fake baby.  Is this really happening? Did Clint Eastwood really direct an Oscar-nominated film with Bradley Cooper with a very fake baby in this emotional scene?



I'm afraid he did.



And Bradley Cooper and Sienna Miller deserve golden statues for being able to pull off such a scene without laughing themselves to oblivion.  Because I was dying inside from the need to laugh.



Now I don't know the reasons behind this obviously fake baby.  Does Bradley Cooper have a paralyzing fear of infants?  Does Sienna Miller refuse to breastfeed real babies?  Do they have contracts stating they aren't to be near tiny little beings?  I.don't.know.



But the problem with such a travesty and inconsistency in a film like this one is that anything, and I mean anything, distracting in a film.....I'm gone.  My brain has left the proverbial building.  I see movies in theater for a reason.  I can't sit still.  I force myself to behave in movie theaters and sit there quietly.  You have no idea how difficult this is for me.  Shutting down my body is hard enough.  Then I have to shut off my mind.  And that's impossible.  Keeping my attention for a prolonged amount of time is a difficult feat.  Watching movies at home usually takes about four hours because I use the pause button A LOT.  And that's for a movie less than two hours.  So in the theater, I have to stay focused, otherwise I'll miss something, and even more than being easily distracted....I hate missing ANYTHING.



But now there was a fake baby on the screen.  In an emotional scene I didn't want to watch anyway.  So, I started doing what any rational person with a slight case of ADHD would do.  I started thinking about a blog post about fake babies.  I started thinking about jokes involving the fake baby from American Sniper.  I started thinking, "only cowards hold fake babies."  "Is that a real baby you're holding or this a scene out of American Sniper?"  "Came for the patriotism, stayed for the baby."



Yes, I'm that mature.



But my mind did wander.  All over the place.  I should have left at that point, honestly.  Not because the fake baby ruined everything...but it certainly distracted me.  I was focused up to that moment.  I was doing well...for me.  Which is saying a lot during an intense war movie.  I usually have to watch these at home so I can pause in part just to keep myself from hiding under blankets.  It's not that I don't like war movies, but the intensity gets to me.  And frankly, I enjoy movies these days that are enjoyable.  Then again, this movie did have some enjoyable qualities.



Because who can't enjoy a movie being plagued by fake babies?




I come home and discover a plethora of articles dedicated to one very, obviously fake movie screen baby.  It turns out I wasn't the only movie patron distracted by that fake baby.  Many people were.  And I hope when they show scenes from the movie when Bradley Cooper's name is called for the nomination, that they show THAT scene.




The articles on the fake baby are worth looking at though.  They are hilarious.




And while some people don't think it should void out such a masterpiece.....I disagree.  How can a movie be a true masterpiece when a prop is so distracting?  So to all the people out there thinking Clint Eastwood was snubbed an Oscar nomination for best director.  Was he? Was he really?






Or was it just a courtesy?




I suppose the rest of the public can decide.  Either way, the best comical film moment so far goes to that scene.  Especially since it wasn't intended.  Don't get me wrong though. I'm not telling you not to watch it.  But remember, fake babies cannot be unseen.

Chickens in the Trees

While it sounds like some sort of B...or F horror movie, we discovered chickens in the trees last December.  We were in the Land of Chickens, this quaint little area with free roaming chickens, waiting for the Christmas parade and there they were.  Chickens.  In the trees.



And this year....there they were again.  Chickens in the trees.







You can't visit the Land of Chickens without taking lots of photos of chickens.  Or maybe that's just me...

There's even a chicken begging for food.

And like last year, they had some crafts.

Then we stopped at Dianda's again, an Italian cafe and bakery.

Now all we need is a Christmas tree in our living room and I will be ready for the holidays.  Because it's not Christmas without a parade and tree.  And technically, we have the tree, I just need to decorate it.

And luckily, my Favorite Two put up the lights the day after Thanksgiving.

 Yeah, it's definitely Christmastime.