Missed Opportunity: George Clooney

Hey, remember when I was in a movie?  I just like to refer to it now and then.  I found an article the other day about the film student who directed the short I was in (Brantley Ping, in the hat in this photo), and there is a photo referring to me as "actor Serenity Bohon."  You know I bookmarked that baby.  After all, according to my 9-year-old (a couple posts earlier), it is one of the things for which I might eventually be famous. (You can see the article HERE, because I know you care.)

All of this brings me to today's small regret.  I could have been in a film with George Clooney, but I turned it down.  (Keep reading for the realistic version of that statement that was SO FUN to write).

Mom has this awesome knack for passing along information for opportunities that probably sound like torture to her but which she knows one or the other of us would love.  Enter a little ad she saw for extras in a George Clooney flick which would be filming at the St. Louis airport less than 4 hours from me.  

I read all about it - you get paid, I don't remember, eleven dollars a day or something.  And the days are hours and hours and hours beyond a normal work day (Okay, like 11 or 12).  But you're in a film with George Clooney.  (You see?  That logic alone would have gotten me in this film.  I AM their target audience.)  And, listen, I had a whole other reason that was pretty good too.  Research.

I'm writing a novel, and let's just say knowing what it actually feels like on the set of a major film, or at least what it feels like to be within several yards of an actor you've previously only seen up close in your movie cabinet at home, would be priceless firsthand information.  Unfortunately, I could have driven all the way to the audition only to find out I didn't get to take part.  OR, I could have driven all the way to the audition only to have to come back a second day.  This is hotel and gas money I didn't really have, what with the economy crashing around our heads, on the off-chance that I would actually be chosen.  I was practical, People.  And nobody ever got into a George Clooney movie BY BEING PRACTICAL.

So, I don't know if regret is the right word.  Those were some precious hours with my actual life that I don't really wish I'd given up.  Still, in a couple of years, George Clooney should appear in a film called Up in the Air (with Jason Bateman too - I've loved you in everything you've done, Mr. Bateman) in which he is a "corporate downsizer obsessed with collecting frequent flyer miles at the expense of having a life".  I'm thinking comedy more than dark drama.  But I'm pretty sure, I'll be the girl in the second to last row, crying.

in which I totally break the rules

Remember chain letters?  Facebook does something kind of like that, only with question and answer games.  And instead of being promised thirty-six pages of stickers when it's over (or any hint of being doomed if you don't participate), it just promises that you'll learn new things about your facebook friends.  They're usually pretty entertaining, although I've never done one myself.  I figure blogging is enough talking about myself for one cyberworld - and twitter and all the sites I use for work.  Anyway, I also get hung up on the part where you have to tag people.  But there have been two I couldn't resist.  I played them but never posted them, and now I'm going to use my blog to exercise all kinds of "self-indulgent drivel" as Simon would say, and post the answers I want to.  

The first asked questions that you answered by the title of whichever iTunes song came up next when set on random.  That was a fun one, but most of the answers I think are only fun to me - after all, these are songs I've chosen because they mean something to me.  The answer to, "What is your life's purpose?", for instance, was The Way I Am and to "What is your life story?" - Made to Worship.  I did NOT like the answer to "What do your parents think of you?" (When Did You Fall) nor the song that will be played at my funeral, Happy Day.  :)  Feel free to refute the former, Mom.

I also couldn't resist the questions that your children were supposed to answer for you.  Some of these were awesome.  John's answers are first in black, Drew's in blue - the same order as their picture above.  (They're 9 and 7):

What was your mom like as a little girl?

A little girl.  Kind, nice.

If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?

An actor or selling books.  Writing thousands and billions of books.

I couldn't believe they know exactly what I do for a job:

Works on a computer, works for this thing to persuade college students to go to these different places.  Works on the computer and entertains people by making them want to go different places like New York, and writing books.

What is your mom's favorite food?

Chicken chimichanga (correct).  Chicken fajita. (close)

What makes you proud of your mom?

She chases her dreams.  That she loves me.

If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be?

Bugs Bunny - you're funny and you're smart.  Mrs. Bohon. (I will in the future consider this the identity of a super - like Mrs. Incredible.)

What do you and your mom do together?

We talk with each other a lot.  Talk by writing.

How are you and your mom the same?

Our eye color is the same.  We both love each other.

How are you and your mom different?

She has a job, and I don't.  I'm a boy, and she's a girl - I mean, WO-man.

How do you know your mom loves you?

She tells me that every day.  Because every night she kisses me and says, "I love you."

What does your mom like most about your dad?

He's funny and handsome.  They've known each other for a long time.

What is your mom's favorite place to go?

They BOTH answered, "Mexican restaurants."  Which reminds me that I'm hungry.

***

I am especially proud at how often I tell them I love them and John's completely awesome answer to what makes him proud of me.  The itunes answer to the question, "What do you want right now?" was, Better Life.  There could not be a more inaccurate answer than that.

(Although I do love that song because of how much I relate to it!  Ah, the complexities of any one person.)

I learned to dance from a cowboy

Last night's Dancing with the Stars theme was for me, "What a trouper."  (Is it trouper or trooper?)  Because with almost every contestant, I would make this little nurturing sound and say that phrase.  With some it was just because this was their first time, and you could see their nerves begging them to stay in that stupid low-ceilinged room rather than subject themselves to that pressure.  But they went out on that stage anyway, knowing the judges would criticize everything from their wayward bums to their gymnastic arms to their toe leads AND knowing that there was no possible way the majority of the American viewing audience could have any idea just how difficult it is to master the steps, the form, the choreography, and the emotion of the dance and manage to capture all of it at once.  Seriously, we have no idea.

But besides simply the first time jitters, there were two contestants who had exactly two days to learn the dance, because they were replacements for those who were injured.  ONE of these last minute replacements was dumped by her fiance on The Bachelor on national television only one week ago.  I was just as impressed with her pretty dancing and subsequent comeback to life as ABC's marketing department intended for me to be.  (Even though the poor thing tried to tell us she is fine.)  And then there was the cowboy.  

The cowboy is Jewel's husband, and the plan was that they would be the first married couple competing against each other.  Then Jewel got hurt, and this poor shy cowboy is left all by himself on this national television program known foremost for its fake tans and sequined costumes.  I really felt for this guy.  He was so gentlemanly and unassuming, taking the criticism so bravely and stating without any sense of self-preservation, "I was very nervous out there.  And I'll try to do better next time."  Michael groaned when I suggested that we watch the show at all, but by the time the cowboy had danced Michael was watching with at least one eyeball and demanded someone get that poor man a horse so he could feel more comfortable.

So, obviously, they've sucked me in again with their colorful costumes and pretty music, and as always - though more noticeable this season - their bravery.  Maybe it's not the kind of bravery you care to have in life.  I definitely get that.  Learning to move your hips is probably a long way from your bucket list.  But I still say there's something to learn from all that dancing.  And for me, last night, it was all about being brave.

(photo by Corey Ann on Flickr)

do you suppose Great Wolf Lodge will pay me for this endorsement?

I remember Dad telling me once that kids like repetition.  After being at a water park with Jake for two days, I've decided that is an understatement equal only to, I'm okay with eating chocolate and we sort of have to breathe to stay alive.  I sort of got a clue the first day when the older kids were rarely in the same part of the park for longer than five minutes, most of the adults varied their activity off and on, and I sat watching Jake go up the stairs and down the red slide so many times that I ceased to discern the difference between the slide and the water.  The next day Michael mentioned that he was feeling kind of ashamed that most parents were 

in the pool with their kids while we sat idly by as Jake made a playmate out of his hand.  I am not even kidding.  He talks to his hand sometimes.  He calls it Jakey, asks if Jakey would like to do this or that, answers, yes okay, and then does it.  He also got really tired by the second leg of the second day and wanted to keep playing but could barely hold his head up.  So, I decided to join him.

He held out his hand.  We walked together up the stairs.  He let go, plopped on the blue slide (the second day's riveting variation) and slid down while I descended the stairs on the other side.  Then he held out his hand again, I grabbed it, and we did the whole thing again until I was literally dizzy.  Somehow walking around and around that little routine felt more engaging than just watching him do it.  And I needed some variety by that point.  Plus, he didn't talk to his hand anymore as long as I was holding it.

We were at an indoor water park in Kansas City celebrating my sister-in-law Mary's birthday.  Which is interesting, because I didn't see that girl go down a single slide.  She even told me she's squeamish - the heights, the plummeting from them - all of it.  She has kids the ages of my older two, and one could assume that she chose the location for the uninterrupted rest and reading time that comes with the children being so happily occupied.  Trust me, though, there are much quieter places to read and relax.  Places where hundreds of children don't run around you screaming, shaking water on you with their oblivion and dumping it on you on purpose if you chase your toddler through the jungle gym area underneath the log in which they have been storing it up.  Places where the smell of chlorine hasn't reached toxic levels.  This, I believe, is the power of motherhood.  To find a place thrilling simply because it is that thrilling to your children.  We're going to sleep right upstairs from three giant water slides and the pools and log-climby things and tree house with the giant bucket on top that dumps 1000 gallons of water every 5 minutes?  AND I CAN GO THERE?!  These are not the words of a twenty-five or so (you're welcome, Mary) year-old woman.  They are the words of her children, and therefore music to her ears.  It is so stinking fun to thrill them.

more things I love about movies

Question: How sad is it that most Americans are NOT smarter than a fifth grader? We have the board game at home, and I just failed half way through fourth grade. The question was something I really, really should have known. I'm embarassed to even tell you how much I should have known it. It had to do with the Alamo, and - well, I guess I just haven't seen enough movies on that one. The way Drew and I play, though, is that you get lots of chances to keep moving forward. And I totally nailed my million dollar Q. You want to know why? The question was, "In what year did the Great Depression start." So I replayed in my head something I'd read on my agent's blog recently - that their Christmas party theme at the end of the year was "Party like it's 1929." I also know the year of the Newsies strike (from the movie) and a few important tid bits on World War I (from the eighth book in the Anne of Green Gables series). And, YET, don't even think I could ace the pop culture section on Who Wants to be a Millionaire, because I only pay attention here and there even in that field that I love so much.

So, yea, I'm feeling kind of - well, not concerned - but interested - in the state of our intelligence. Because I know I'm not alone. I also know that at least I'm smarter than Kelly Pickler, who didn't know if France was a country or not, and the teen Miss America contestant who stumbled over basic geography in a question about why American kids don't know enough about geography and, seriously, most of the people interviewed by Jay Leno on the street outside of Universal Studios. I mean, that segment is just really, really sad.

Michael and I were talking about the economy today and various executive orders signed last week and the Climate Change formerly known as global warming. And of course, I eventually ran out of things I knew for sure and things of which I even had an educated opinion. That doesn't take long for me when it comes to current events. I've paid more attention to the current presidency in two days than I ever paid attention before. I think it was the fingers-in-the-ears philosophy. If I don't know it, it can't scare me, la la la. I think I got that from a movie too. And I quote:

There's always an Arquillian Battle Cruiser or a Corillian Death Ray or an intergalactic plague that is about to wipe out all life on this miserable little planet, and the only way these people can get on with their happy lives is that they. . . Do . . . Not. . . . Know about it.

Isn't that the truth.

extremely random movie thoughts, and by the way - Happy New Year!

When I wrote about the Emmys a while back, I was sort of put out with Hollywood because I felt disdained by them - what with having voted conservative, um, ever. That post started quite the little discussion. But one friend didn't comment at all - although she wanted to write something to the effect of, "Ah, Serenity is growing up!" because I was able to see anything other than red carpets and rosiness in my beloved Hollywood. Well, it's been too long since I wrote about Hollywood now, and I don't want anyone to wonder if I've grown up any further - because I haven't - so I thought it was time. Consider this a huge catch-up version of "Movie Reviews From My Cabinet at Home." In this case: A glimpse at some of the movies, new and (80s) classic, I can't get enough of this Christmas vacation holiday. Now remember, we're kids. I mean, um, we have kids. So it's not like any of these were nominated for best picture. They just get us, okay?

First up, Kung Fu Panda. First, I love the Asian themes. Love them. When I watched The Last Samuri I suddenly wanted to clean my house. Just clean it, remove 90 percent of the stuff from it, and hang black-framed pictures of lone white lillies. Besides the Eastern inspiration that makes us want to cleanse our universe/cleanse our souls, Kung Fu Panda is freaking hilarious. We never laughed so hard in our lives - out loud in a movie theater - as we did watching Jack Black as an overweight Kung Fu trainee with a heart of gold. So. Funny. Plus, I now figure there are two kinds of people in this world: Those who believe there's a secret ingredient and those who don't.

Freaky Friday. The Oscars are so pretentious, aren't they? Because if they weren't, they never would have overlooked Jamie Lee Curtis's performance as a teenager trapped in her mother's body in this hilarious version of what was already a pretty great concept. Lindsay Lohan actually does beautifully as her mother as well, but Jamie Lee Curtis slays me. When the teenager-trapped-in-mom's-body tries to read something and has to trombone it, Curtis says "Whoa, she's blind!" in one of the funniest line deliveries ever, and that's just one of the many scenes in this movie that she completely nails. I actually believe there's a teenager in there. Believe it. And this realistic acting makes it all the more poignant when they whip out the schmaltz and actually make me cry. It's a great movie about understanding each other. Period.

The Three Musketeers. I credit this movie for some of my downfall into a total adoration for the art of movie-making. It has everything - romance, great clothes and hair, heroes, sacrifice, brotherhood, and humor. I love the gentle queen who loved the timid king to whom her marriage was arranged. I love how fiercly the musketeers believe in their duty to protect that king. And the line, "Come, Dartagnon, we're saving the king!" was as critical to our family's movie-quoting history as "Goodbye, Boys, have fun storming the castle." Major Nickerson nostalgia in this film, and I'm so glad we own it now.

Honey I Shrunk the Kids. I have no philosophical goodness to bring out from this movie. No one single thing. We own it because I got it for about 4 dollars, and I loved it as a kid. But seriously, when I subjected my children to it the other day, I still sat RIVETED by those four, poor, quarter-inch children trying to cross the massive jungle that used to be simply their back yard. I couldn't wait for the humungous oatmeal cream pie and the part where they sleep in a Lego. It's just good, clean fun.

Ratatouille. If you're sensing a Disney obsession here, that's because I'm in the DVD club. And incidentally, I adore the movie montage before Disney movies now where they play the fantastic score from Kevin Kostner's Robin Hood. It gets my Hollywood eyes all starry. And Ratatouille is just so cute and culinary. It doesn't exactly make me want to be a cook, but it makes me appreciate them very, very much. I'm so glad some people cared to turn our plain animal instict to eat things into an actual art. If there were only people like me in the world, ingredients would never have come together properly. Heck, we probably never would have peeled a banana.

Hancock. We don't own this one, and we've only seen it once - but it was fairly recently. Will Smith is in it, which is a clincher for this fam. And he plays a really arrogant super power whose publicist (Jason Bateman . . . I think I still have a poster of you around here somewhere) convinces him to just look people in the eye now and then and tell them, "Good job." Oh my goodness, do we like to deliver that line around here. Plus, I love the idea of a reluctant superhero and the way he is transformed basically by one man's belief that he can better himself, a little boy's unfettered admiration of him, and the choice to love selflessly.

Now, can anyone tell me which of these movies I should rush to see (or perhaps away from) currently in theaters? Because I think I want to see them all: Benjamin Button, Marley & Me (I already know - bring a box of Kleenex and try not to have ever actually loved any of your pets), Seven Pounds, Bedtime Stories, Valkyrie. Also, I got a couple months of free Netflix for Christmas, so prepare for another rash of brief, completely unhelpful movie reviews soon. Up first is Hairspray, and I hear Ghost Town is awesome.

photo credit:  basha04 on Flickr

thoughts on the ballot

I can't wait to drop my kids off tomorrow and drive to my voting location to exercise my American right to have a say. It's a beautiful thing, and I look forward to it. But I dread the fact that there will almost certainly be a few areas that I simply do not know how to vote. So I thought I would create a list of things I wish would be on the ballot tomorrow.

Proposition to extend the fall and spring seasons. We could call it the Goldilocks Bill - neither too hot nor to cold. Year round. I know some people prefer the extremes. Not me.

Longer lunch hours. Don't Europeans take at least 2 hours there?

A permanent addition to school curriculum, "Letters to Home". Mrs. Pasa of the Kirksville Primary School can lead the committee to put it into practice. Believe me, Parents, you want this one. It does your heart good.

Tax breaks for using recyclable bags at the grocery store and buying fresh fruit and whole grains.

Tastier whole grains.

A paid maternity leave for potty training.

A mandatory percentage for positive stories on news programs. Happy thoughts, People. It does the body good.

Some sort of entertainment bonus for sitting through all the campaign commercials lately. I think we've all earned at least a free trip to the movie theater. With popcorn.

Along those lines, I'd like a gift certificate to an American retailer along with my "I voted" sticker.

And, finally, an extension on the McDonalds Monopoly. I was so close.

It Hurt My Feelings, but I'll Take You Back

Michael did wonders for my Sunday night blues, which had actually hit around noon that day, when he discovered it was Emmy night. I don't know why that one always sneaks up on me. The Oscars I obsess over starting about - well, now actually. (They don't happen until February or so.)

If you've read my blog before, you know I have a love-hate relationship with Hollywood. Except without the hate. I expect good things from them. Expect them to impress and thrill me. I'm very generous with the way they dress on the red carpet and usually very willing to approve all kinds of flamboyant colors, big fat bows by their necks, strange messy hair-do's, geometric patterns - all of it. Bring it on. I love their funny speeches, love it when they make fun of themselves, love it when they cry.

But this Emmy night I found myself being a little . . . flinchy. I think it's because I had seen this video with Matt Damon shortly before. Now, like I said, I love Hollywood. Matt Damon to me is the nerdy, adorable thief in the Ocean's movies who beat out Brad Pitt and George Clooney one year for People's Sexiest Man Alive and wrote the endearing note that "this dad from the suburbs" was extremely grateful for having been noticed in that way. I like him very much both for that and for being practically in junior high when he won his Oscar for Good Will Hunting, because I like seeing really big dreams come true. And, as I said, I love Hollywood in general. Along with the messy up-do's and gaudy bows, I also allow quite a bit of political bent in them. I think they have every right to spout a political opinion now and then. They're Americans. Just because I prefer it when they play pretend doesn't mean they're uneducated.

But Sunday, like I said, I was flinchy. It seemed that every one of them when they walked onto the stage was actually snarling. As a group they seemed so angry about the past eight years. So very angry. And they seemed to be angry with me - the little conservative girl in the midwest whose been a little too slow to acknowledge global warming and a little too narrow-minded in her social views. I mean, I pay these people's salaries. Not like an employer pays an employee but like tax payers pay the king, or perhaps like tribes-people sacrifice to the gods. I adore them. And I adore what they do. And I just wish they would keep influencing me through their art instead of their hatred. That's all I'm saying.

So I chose this picture by watchwithkristin on Flickr becuase it has Josh Groban in it (and in the background, Claire from Lost) because he was probably the only part of that night that was sheer happy entertainment. It's hard to snarl when you're singing the theme song to Friends.

look what I got

Wonders for Wednesday

Rebecca is hosting a blog party today in honor of her birthday in which we all post about one of our favorite Wonders. Now that you mention it, that is one of my favorite wonders. Birthdays, that is. I love them. But my favorite wonder of all, beyond these of course,














is this:















I call it fall. Bec (my Australian friend) calls it autumn, which is of course the much lovelier name. Why do I love it so much? Because I like to wrap up in these,














and go to a certain homecoming parade dressed like this:














and when else can you make your little boy look like this and get away with it?















Plus, fall is the first time I did this:















which is the happiest thing of all.

The other thing I love about fall is because it's the season that I think best represents Change - something all the seasons represent - and sometimes in life it's really good to remember that things change.















And so often, they get better.















The End.

And also, he named the boy Knox . . . that's my county!

When I was in the store Tuesday night, I realized a tremendous oversight. I had not yet bought the People magazine with the new Jolie-Pitt twins on the cover and the 16-page Jolie-Pitt album on the inside even though it had been in stores since the day before.

I remedied that immediately. Michael thinks I have a problem. I told him he won't think that when I make money someday on that novel about a girl obsessed with fame and that this is "just research."

But despite the fact that I don't think I have a problem, I do refuse to comment about how beautiful the babies are or on the fact that I was moved by how normal and tired the parents seemed and how normal and un-polished the other children's clothes were. It's one thing to buy the magazine; it's an entirely different thing to bring it up in discussion (or on a blog) as if the birth of two little babies really deserved all that attention.

Actually, you know what I really believe? They did deserve it. Every baby does. But there aren't nearly enough magazine issues for that.

a Monday sort of post

This is a picture of my Dad and brother after graduating recently from the sheriff's academy. I wanted to put it up right then and write this great post about how from my Dad I have learned to never stop asking the question, "What do I want to be when I grow up?" Build on the old, by all means - Dad's had a long respected career as a physician - but don't ever think you're done. I admire that.

But I didn't take this picture with my own camera, so I didn't get a copy of it right away and failed to write that masterpiece when it was in season. Now I'm posting this picture because the last post had a picture of my sisters and I wanted to round it out with the brother. Not that he EVER READS MY BLOG. But still.

It was very Mondayish for me today. (My closest family members, the ones who DO READ MY BLOG, have heard that now three times. What can I say? It was the topic of the day.) But it had one really memorable moment. Kids will do that for you.

I have this habit when the kids are scared or sad or worried about something. I remind them of the good thing similar to it and say, "So think about that instead." For instance, "You don't think the time to go swimming again will come soon enough? But you had such fun doing it today . . . just think about that instead."

So today, it got me back. I burned the cookies (not possible with the air bake pan actually, but they were way more brown than I like them . . . especially since I like them straight from the bowl.) Anyway, I said to John when I took them from the oven, "Wow, I am not having a very good day." You know what he said?

"Well. Yes you are. So just think about that."

When you put it that way . . . I'm convinced!

I am SO Blogging That

I joined Facebook a while back, and I would personally like to apologize to college students everywhere for invading your space. On the other hand, to the Facebook shareholders, you're welcome.

(If you're on Facebook and haven't seen me in the "people you may know tool" then be sure to look me up.) I added this application to it called Flair, and I'm kind of addicted. It's the image of a cork board basically on which you can put button-looking things that contain all your favorite things. I have "Mrs. Bohon" on one and "I Heart Boys" (if you're just joining me, that's a nod to all the Y chromosomes in my offspring - not a flashback to junior high), and a black one with the phrase from today's title. I also added this sisters one just today. (You can make your own too! I'm unstoppable!) I've told you before I'm not cool, so it doesn't really bother me that I'm addicted to decorating an imaginary cork board in an imaginary dorm room. It also doesn't bother me that I can't seem to stop adding scenes and quotes from friends. I'll be labeling this post just for fun of course, because my Flair obsession has no meaning whatsoever. It's just that I can't stop doing it and therefore told myself today, "I am SO blogging that."

In video news: Yep, the first Serenity Live video is up and running on several channels online. (See it to the right - they're both the same). Please feel free to comment, but you should know I don't accept criticism very well, or mocking, or random observations of annoying details I perhaps haven't noticed myself. So stick to glowing praise and subscriptions to my fan club - I'm quite accepting of either of those.

In other video news, and with no disrespect to either my company or my awesome camera guy, Tom, or my sound guy, Nathan - you should really check out this video by a guy named Matt -- It has "hell" in the name, but don't let that scare you away even the tiniest bit. It's a beautiful video that might very well make you laugh and cry and repeat the cycle more than once. As soon as I saw it - well, you know what I thought. (Re-insert title here - you got that, right?)

I got Hollywood sunglasses from a kiosk in the new Downtown, Branson. They were my first souvenir. The second was an 8-dollar key chain with pictures of us taken at our table in a bar-b-que restaurant by the person who then sold them to us in a nice little key chain. But I won't talk about that. The picture-taking monopoly in Branson gets Michael all riled up. It was tempting after she took the picture of us, to reach into my purse and ask her to now take the same pictures with my own camera. Would she have done it, do you suppose? Probably. But she would have charged 8 dollars for the flash.

So, anyway, the Hollywood glasses. I call them that because they're huge and dark and they're Versace. Actually, they're "compare our prices to" Versace. But that works for me because I have this ridiculous illusion (um, dee-lusion maybe?) that even if I could afford 500-dollar sunglasses, I wouldn't buy them because that's just wrong with all the poverty in the world. It's a lovely illusion since I'm not actually in a position to have to live up to it.

But I'm terribly disappointed, because I don't look a thing like Angelina Jolie in those glasses. I look more like a bug or something. It's very disheartening. I've actually never been able to pull off sunglasses. I don't know why I try.

Puh! That's not true. I know exactly why I try. People magazine much? Yes, but only if Julia, Jennifer Aniston, or Suri Cruise are on the cover. In sunglasses.

Show Me That Smile Again

Um, Felic? Kirk Cameron wrote a BOOK. Yay! Remember when you told me I couldn't share him with you? He was your crush and thereby could not be mine as well. You helped me find someone for myself in one of those teen magazines. (And I still love you, C.D. Barnes. I thought you were great as the voice of Prince Erik in The Little Mermaid).

I discovered Cameron's book because I you-tubed him tonight (that's a verb now, right?) looking for a certain clip from Growing Pains. I thought of it when we were watching The Truman Show again tonight. See my profound adoration for The Truman Show here. And I had this thought, "I wonder how the idea for this movie began?" It could just be way ahead of its time. I mean, maybe the creator of it thought, someday . . . Reality T.V. How did they know? But then I wondered if it was this: What would happen, they may have thought, if a person reached the age in which you discover the world does not revolve around you, only to discover that the world DOES REVOLVE AROUND YOU? I also think this would be a fun game - watch a movie and try and decide what brilliant what if was asked that eventually led to the movie. But anyway -

This brilliant train of thought - if you're even remotely still with me -reminded me of Mike on Growing Pains. Remember, Felic? When he stayed home sick from school, and Gilligan's Island was on, and he was totally and completely thrown. "Gilligan's Island is on television while I'm at school?!" And, thus, the realization that the world did not actually revolve around him. Something about that episode just rang true in my teenage mind.

There is a great recent video of Cameron on You Tube about his new book. You gotta admit, he's a pleasant guy. And I love stories like this in which a person just says - "God, if you're real, then make me know it." And then He does.

Incidentally, Michael, I love you way more than C.D. Barnes. Although I do know that his full name is Christopher Daniel, and I can still sing the theme song to Day By Day.

I can still hear them taunting him, "Silly Rabbit, Trix are for kids"

We all know my passion for finding the mundane, meaningful. But this might very well be the greatest stretch of that talent yet. My attachment to breakfast cereal.

It started when I was pregnant with John Michael. Breakfast cereal wasn't so much a craving as it was for some reason the only thing I felt I could stomach. Sometimes three times a day. Usually Fruit Loops if I remember correctly. Nothing too flaky or granola-like - I didn't want to risk the chance of anything getting caught anywhere and screaming at the gag reflex to catapult the whole thing back where it came from. But this next part is much prettier: My love for cereal further grew when the older boys were much younger. Drew had just started voicing opinions about things, and it had become apparent that he and John had different personalities. I loved watching that. I love watching it still. It's amazing to see three boys from the same two people be three such different souls. But besides that, it's lovely to watch them trust us enough and feel comfortable enough to be their own people. Michael and I cringe any time it seems otherwise. And like so many other epoch revelations in life, it manifested itself in breakfast cereal. I was completely, almost-to-tears, moved the day I realized that John liked Rice Krispies and Drew Cocoa Pebbles, John hated cinnamon and Drew loved it. Drew lived for donuts, John felt they were simply too messy. It's not like fixing your child a second supper because you're not up for the fight that ensues over the one you slaved over half the evening. Getting each kid their own cereal is a complete thrill, like refusing to name them Michael Jr., Michael, Jr., Jr., and - you know, Junior. They get their own name - first and middle - and their own cereal. And it completely thrills me.

Incidentally, Jake's following in Drew's footsteps so far with the Cinnamon, but you can bet I'll write it in poetry the first time he tells me, "Not that one, Mom. Bring on the Cap'n!"

Other breakfast cereals we love: Honey Bunches of Oats, Honey Nut Cheerios, chocolate marshmallow Lucky Charms (do 5-year-olds invent cereal now?), Golden Grahams, and Cinnamon Toast Crunch. When I'm feeling strangely nostalgic for strange childhood cravings, I want Pops or Honey Smackers - those are the weirdest cereals. And any of these that can be purchased in the Malt-O-Meal brand will be. It's way more breakfast for your buck.

the problem with reality

I'm pretty sure I could turn on any reality television show, and even if I had not seen it once up to that point, I would feel devastated and crushed for whatever poor person was eliminated from the contest that week. I. Hate. That. Part. When Steve Gutenberg was voted off Dancing with the Stars, I felt there was definitely no justice for the nice guys. He kept practically reading my own personal treatise about the show, every time he spoke. You know, it could potentially save the world. If not from trouble, then at least from despair. It's just such a happy thing - dancing.

And don't get me started on watching the American Idol kids fade from history. The poor things came so close to their chance and then lost it along with a great big lovely feeling that America itself was rejecting them.

But the one that takes the cake for me, and by cake I mean the prize for the worst elimination process in HISTORY, is Oprah's Big Give. This is just wrong, People. And I don't like it. "You didn't give enough. You're a loser. Go home." Didn't give enough? NOBODY gives enough. Not one of us. And it's exactly that kind of feeling - that even if you try, it still won't be enough - that keeps people from giving at all. It's a strange little game, and I'm not a fan.

They really shouldn't call these reality television anymore. I liked them the first time when they were called Game Shows and the winners at least left with some parting gifts. Where are the parting gifts in reality t.v.?! That's what I want to know. (This tirade excludes The Bachelor. Getting booted off that show IS your parting gift, girls, trust me.) The elimination process in reality t.v. is ridiculously outside of reality.

It's like I keep saying in regards to all the hopes and dreams we all have for success and greatness and getting discovered: Only one person can win a contest. But lots of people win at life.

Toddler Bed - Day 45ish

This is just the best part of my day.

I took this picture last night after I had put him in bed, returned to the hallway, and saw the hand sticking out from under the door. I got the camera and sat it on the carpet on my side, knowing full well that even though I couldn't see it, there was one very guiltless face grinning somewhere on the other side - which as you can see, the picture confirmed. During the third picture, I even heard an audacious, though whispered, "Cheeeeese."

an official tag

Anne Dayton on the Good Girl Lit site tagged me last night with these instructions:

(1) Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages)
(2) Open the book to page 123
(3) Find the fifth sentence
(4) Post the next three sentences
(5) Tag five people

Well. I hit the book roulette jackpot. This book sits by my desk waiting to be returned to Mom after I borrowed it and devoured it not long after I gave it to her for her birthday. Anyway. Sentence 4 tells us that Madeleine L'Engle says you know you are a writer if you can't help but write, if you feel like you must. Sentence 5 reads (because I don't really get by the instructions whether or not it is to be posted, but I feel you need it for the context):

I feel like I must.

(Now the next three)

I want to obey that calling. I'm not a genius. I would be content simply to do some good work.

Isn't it lovely? And just exactly how I feel.

I tag Jenny, Matt, Tracy, Zanne, and Mom, which means that Mom will simply have to post three sentences in my comments section, if she plays at all.

i'd like to thank the academy

I would first like to thank Scott for kneeling on his sidewalk to tape down the red carpet for our arrival and then posing as the paparazzi who snapped our grand entrance.

Thank you to Michele for the decorations and gifts bags and boas and classy finger foods - chocolate-covered strawberries are good for me, right?

Thank you to Jon Stewart for letting that girl from Once finish her speech after the commercial break before which she was so rudly muted and drowned out by the orchestra.

And although the "Once" people won, thank you to Enchanted for providing almost every other song in that category as it provided for huge, delightful production numbers throughout the evening. Thank you to August Rush as well for the inspirational gospel moment. The song choices and best picture choices seem to have been chosen by different groups - one glass half full, the other really empty.

I am especially grateful to The Bourne Ultimatum as my bets regarding that movie in the sound editing categories might very well have given me the lead on my pre-printed ballot. Which reminds me to thank Michele again, because my prize rocked. And also reminds me to thank Jon Stewart again because after these categories were announced he read my mind by saying, "Someone just took the lead in their office pool based on a guess."

Finally, I would like to thank Hollywood - for the beautiful dresses, the strangely casual up-dos, the montages, montages, montages (good Lord, I love a good movie montage), for putting Jack on one end of the first row and George Clooney on the other as classic Hollywood bookends, and in all other ways with almost no complaints (despite the sad penchant for violence in the nominated films - as Jon put it, "Does this town need a hug or what?") - for in all other ways completely bringing it.

I officially forgive you for the Golden Globes.