14 days to Vacation!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Two weeks from tonight I will be walking along the shores of the Northumberland Strait.
Taking pictures.
Watching the dogs frolic in the waves.
After experiencing the construction chaos of the last three weeks, the peace and tranquility of the seaside will be sorely needed.
And the construction chaos peaked on Friday when the contractor informed Stephen. . .
. . I wasn't home, of course. I was at the three hour Friday morning meeting that was postponed.
Because if I had of been home, this would have been resolved immediately. . . .
. . .that I was not going to be able to have the deep, rich red I selected because we were only allowed two coats of paint, as per the instructions of the insurance company, so they would bring the paint samples back Monday morning so I could make another choice.
I will get my rich, red paint.
Or those paint chips will be going to a place much darker than the red paint I selected.
Last evening was another round of baked beans and brown bread at the nursing home.
But time, just to shake things up coleslaw was also added to the menu.
Just when you thought things were patterned and routinized.
What was also a little unusual was the size of the helping of baked beans I was offered.
Accepting that you will eat nursing home helpings while dining with nursing home residents is part and parcel of the nursing home experience.
For some reason, last evening's head cook, who is perhaps the most surly, unpleasant human being I have ever met, was uber generous with her plate of beans.
And having been brought up to eat everything on my plate, I did.
Resulting in the at-the-table-oh-my-gawd-I-can-feel-it-happening-right-this-second-expansion of my middle.
Caused not by beans.
Gas.
That stayed with me for the duration of what turned out to be a very long evening.
And provided my children and husband with much mirth and amusement.
Yesterday was indeed a long day.
After the nursing home, Stephen met me downtown and we went for a nice, long walk.
Desperately needed for so many reasons not including the public, open air expulsion of the bean causing gas.
We walked for about an hour and a half, chatting, laughing, enjoying being away from the construction caused claustrophobic atmosphere.
We arrived home to the heat and humidity trapped inside in spite of the open windows, and numerous fans attempting in vain to sweep out the heat.
Now, normally after noshing at the nursing home and legging it around downtown, I would come home, greet my capering canines, greet my children who have taken to hermiting themselves in their bedrooms, I would move to the peace and comfort of my own bedroom, change into my jammies and crawl into bed with Kobo in hand, ready for a nice, long, leisurely read interrupted only by visits from my children, husband and loving licks from Frankie and Tikka.
All of that happened.
But with a twist.
No jammies.
Laid on top of the bed, Kobo in hand, Frankie at my side, fully clothed, watching the clock.
Because there was still one more event on my Saturday calendar.
The Birds.
Tippi Hedren.
Suzanne Pleshette.
Jessica Tandy.
And a whole lot of birds.
On the big screen, original 1963 print.
Part of Empire Theaters Fan Favourites series.
Only a movie could entice me enough to leave the house for an 11.55 pm viewing.
Only a movie.
This treat was provided by my loving Bunny.
She bought the tickets ages ago as an early, all family for Mum's birthday celebration.
My birthday is approaching.
But we will be at the cottage when the event occurs.
And Em wanted do to something while we were all together.
Something she knew I would absolutely love.
And she was right.
We arrived at Mer's apartment at 11.20 pm.
Of course, she wasn't ready and Em had to engage in recon to find out what was up.
She was asleep.
Keith did predict this from his place in the backseat.
His very I-am-being-a-right-cranky-git space.
Stephen, ever the night owl was quiet excited about viewing this film.
Odd, given that in any other movie going experience save seeing the Harry Potter films trying to get him to a movie is like akin to getting Em to clean her room and Mer to be financially responsible.
His usually-movie-challenging nature was, I suspect, dampened by his love of Tippi Hendren.
Then. . .
Now. . .
Look familiar?
She's Melanie Griffith's mother.
I never thought I'd ever have a reason to write about Melanie Griffiths.
But I am not sinking so low as to include a picture of her.
I have standards.
And these Fan Favourite Nights are not just about seeing great films on the big screen.
There are prizes, too.
One of the prizes in particular had Stephen's heart pumping.
A signed photo of Tippi Hedren.
Alas, we did not win that prize.
But, we did win a family pass to the Hopewell Rocks.
A favourite family haunt, so I was most excited about the opportunity to spend a day wandering around the rocks during low tide:
And at high tide:
Ending the day with the requisite visit to Alma, and in particular Kelly's Bakery for one of the world's best sticky buns.
Better than a photo of Tippi Hendren any day!
And this wasn't the only prize won by our little family.
Mer, too won a prize.
While nibbling on a large tray of movie nachos complete with extra cheese and washing it down with an upsized soda, Mer won herself an hour with a nutritionist and physical trainer.
The irony was JUST too glaring to ignore.
And even it wasn't, I couldn't have ignored it if I tried.
By the time we managed to get to the car, after the movie, she had traded her healthy prize for five hours of pool at Dooly's.
That's my child.
Of course, the movie was wonderful.
The Birds is one of those movies that stays with you because one, it's terrifying and two, (and this is a spoiler so if you haven't seen and want to, close your eyes and move forward) there is no explanation provided for how come the birds attacked this small, bay community.
Not uncommon for Hitchcock who actually did the same thing in Psycho.
Initially, he wanted the film to end with Lila Crane finding Norman's mother in the basement, being attacked by Norman who was then held back by Sam Loomis just before Bates was able to actually hurt Lila.
But. . .
The studio refused to release the film until Hitchcock added a scene where someone, an expert, in this case a psychiatrist, explained what was wrong with Norman and how come he did what he did.
How come?
The studio didn't believe that the 1960s American film viewer could handle seeing the handsome, boy-next-door-turned-serial-killer and experience his crimes and subsequent capture without leaving the theater with an explanation for his abominable behaviour.
Part of the mystique of The Birds is not having that explanation.
In my opinion.
Not in the opinion of my adorable, loving and sometimes uncultured children.
Mer: I didn't like that movie at all!
Me: How come?
Mer: There was nothing to say how come the birds attacked everyone.
Me (excitedly) But Mer! That's part of the magic. Hitchcock did the same thing in Psycho. . .
Mer (cutting me off) Mom. Stop. I wanted a reason.
So, the majority of 1960s America and Mer want answers for how come what happened, happened.
I was not impressed with her cutting me off.
For the remainder of our time together that evening, including when she was walking to her apartment building, I randomly yelled out,
CAW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
By the time we arrived home, took the dogs out for a night light pee and poo, put on my jammies, crawled into bed and I turned on my Kobo, it was almost 3.00 am.
Well past my 9.00 pm-in-bed-to-read-for-an-hour-before-I-fall-asleep-with-my-glasses-on-and-Stephen-has-to-come-in-take-off-my-glasses-and-turn-out-the-light, routine.
And of course, I had to be up and energetic the next day for another Sunday afternoon adventure with my Mum.
This Sunday's activity of choice?
My choice, not Mum's. . . .
The Superstore.
We desperately needed groceries.
Mum desperately needed to get out.
But the Superstore is only open from 12-5.
I did what any other mother of three who is in need of groceries and promised her mother and outing could do.
Combined the two.
Thankfully, I have a mother who just wants to get out, so her standards for where she goes are fairly low.
And it was an adventure.
Mum, me and Stephen in the grocery store on a very busy, rainy, overcast Sunday?
Of course it was an adventure.
But it'll have to wait until tomorrow.
Title Lyric: Birds by Kate Nash
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