April 26, 2011
Last evening Emily and I went to the movies.
Water for Elephants.
As soon as she mentioned wanting to see it, I started my internal struggle.
Always ready and willing to see movies with my Em. . . .
. . . but not wanting to see a movie where animal abuse is part of the story.
When I was younger, my father loved to watch westerns.
I would watch with him, and if, in the process of a gunfight, a cowboy was shot and his horse happened to fall over. . .fall over mind you, not die. . .I was inconsolable.
And if an animal did die, I was apoplectic.
Growing older, I managed to develop a sense of self control.
Not much, but enough that I wouldn't need to be taken to the hospital if I saw something happen to an animal in a film or on tv.
But I would need to leave the room.
And crying was definitely involved.
My Dog Skip had exactly one viewing in my house, me and the kids, before it was thrown in the garbage, never to be seen again.
It took hours to calm everyone down.
So, having read Water for Elephants, and skipping over the parts where Rosie is victim to August's sadism, I knew what was coming.
In a film, however, you're less certain when because of course, the book and the film are NEVER exactly the same.
Resulting in me leaving the theater, coming back, and hiding by the door until I was convinced that the worst was over.
Couple this anxiety with Em's foul mood for most of yesterday, and you have a recipe for a movie experience that probably won't be in my top five.
Animal abuse aside, it wasn't a bad film.
Christoph Waltz is a brilliant actor.
Evidenced by my hatred of his character, August.
Robert Pattinson, so, so easy on the eyes, helped me get through my trauma.
Reese Witherspoon. . .every time I see her, all I can think is that she needs braces.
Hal Holbrook.
Need I say more.
And Rosie, the elephant.
Who is now my hero.
In spite of the fact that for some, this long weekend pays homage to the goddesses and gods of chocolate, I managed to prevent myself from gorging on candy coated chocolate eggs, peanut M&Ms, solid Easter bunnies, popcorn treats at the movies. . . .
But that isn't to say that I didn't indulge in a few candies, garnered when no one was looking.
Yes, sneaking.
Taking candy from my babies.
A few here and there from the kid's stash.
The few sacrificing for the many.
Meaning if I eat a few now, I won't go to the Superstore and buy twice as many bags as they are on sale, thus I can get more for the same price as I would have before Easter.
And I could eat all of them.
Believe me.
And then want more.
But I didn't.
Yeah me.
Hence fruit salad for Easter dessert.
The much better choice.
Tasty, tasty.
I am reminded of childhood Easters, sitting at the kitchen table, eating all my chocolate while devouring the latest Nancy Drew book that accompanied my Easter fare.
Which is probably what got me where I was today.
Damn Nancy Drew!
Title Lyric: The Circus by Take That.
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