Anybody want a peanut?

This makes me so very happy.

I saw The Princess Bride in the theatre the first weekend it came out in September 1987;  I was in that magical first month of my freshman year at college so for me it's all wrapped up in nostalgia and the delight of new freedom and friendships and the feeling of unlimited possibility. 'Tis true.

My favorite, exceedingly quotable lines that have been dropped into conversation over the years:

As you wish.
Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.
ROUS.
No more rhymes now, I mean it! ...anybody want a peanut?
You rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles.
We are men of action, lies do not become us.
Inconceivable.
You keep using this word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

I just checked and I have now mentioned The Princess Bride no less than five times on this blog. Five! It's going to start needing its own tag pretty soon. Here are the others, in case you're wondering:

Hello my name is
As you wish
Ensconced
En garde

. . .

p.s. thanks to my brother Chris for passing these along. I did the math and he was seven when The Princess Bride came out. Youngster.

Commodious reading

This weekend as I cleaned the bathroom I noticed that a July 2010 issue of Real Simple magazine has been sitting on the shelf in the downstairs bathroom for a long time. I knew this because I could recite the quote on the spine of the magazine without looking.

Curious, I wandered into the family room where the rest of the crew was lounging.

"Hey guys, complete this sentence: 'I like things to happen..."

Everyone piped up, in chorus: "...and if they don't happen, I like to make them happen. Winston Churchill."

And then we debated the fittingness of that certain location for that particular quote. Because we're mature like that.

Never let it be said we don't know how to multi-task. Just think of all the chapters of scriptures and Shakespearean sonnets we could have memorized in those nine months!

Oscar night shenanigans

We're a movie family. My mom and her sisters have been known to fly across the country to watch the Oscars together, even bringing fabulously eclectic formalwear gathered from searches of secondhand clothes stores throughout the year. Also, ask my Grandma about our ancestor Edwina Booth who starred in a movie nominated for best picture in 1931 and she will fill you in on all of the details including a purported train ride across Germany and some early Nazi run-ins.

Not everyone gets this movie thing and that's okay. I know it seems a titch kooky. I just wanted to point out that we come by this silliness naturally.

When the Oscars roll around each year, we try to take the chance to make it an occasion. We fill out the ballots and keep score for bragging rights (even though we haven't ever seen all of the films). We tune in early for the red carpet commentary and critiques. This year we spread out Lauren's red snuggie blanket for a red carpet and issued this challenge: dress up like someone from one of the movies or in your red carpet finest.  

Originally I tried to get away with going as Mark Zuckerberg in the Social Network, wearing a hoodie and sweats but then when my daughters got into the spirit of the evening, I upped my game a little:

Maddy started out the evening in a black tutu a la The Black Swan. Then she switched to boxers, knee highs and a t-shirt, a tribute to the locally filmed The Fighter. Lauren went as a red carpet movie star, happy to recycle her prom dress from last year (maybe the boned bodice could be a nod to Winter's Bone?). Sam came down in a cowboy hat and badge as Woody from Toy Story 3. Greg, just home from church and home teaching, came as one of the accountants for the Academy in charge of protecting the honor of the voting system. In retrospect, I'm saying that I went as grown-up Mattie Ross (remember in True Grit when she leaves the graveyard in her Mary Poppins-like dress?). Either that, or Tom Hooper's proud mum who found the idea for The King's Speech and passed it along to her son. The line of the night: "The moral of the story is: listen to your mother."

p.s. Overall, I wasn't that wowed by the Oscars this year but I *loved* Cate Blanchett's hair last night (here's the side and back). Really, really. Don't be surprised if I return to my shorter hair of yore sometime this spring. I think I might be up for a change.

Notes to self

 

Dear Tummy,

I'm sorry for the rich party food I ate at the 4 festive gatherings this weekend. (Seriously, though. That baklava? Insanely good!) Today is all virtuous clementines and salad and water. Truce?

Love,

Full me

. . .

Dear Thighs,

Don't. Even. Think about it. Please disregard everything I ate this weekend (see above). 

Love,

Pear-shaped me

. . .

Dear Head, Nose, Throat, and Eyes,

Thank you so much for clearing up and going back to normal.  I promise not to take you for granted any more. Also (this is for you, nose) enjoy the lovely pine tree smell and the mulling spices. Who loves you, huh?

Love,

Glad-to-be-well me

. . .

Dear Brain,

I know you see December on the calendar and throw confetti in the air and dance a jig. But I really, really need you to stay focused for just a few more days. A week, max. Also, I absolutely love the ideas you produce but your whirring in the middle of the night is a bit much.  Same with your worry output. Relax, brain. There's plenty of time and love in the world. Talk to your friend the heart now and then; that'll calm you down.

Love,

Paper-writing me

. . .

Dear Tongue,

Um, I don't know how to tell you this but Christmas card day is upon us soon. Man up, tongue! Stop cowering. It's envelope licking season and you're it. Hey, good news, though! The stamps are adhesive! You're welcome.

Love,

Bossy me

. . .

Dear Trunk,

Do you mind if I call you that? Trunk? You know who I'm talking to: arms-back-chest-belly-shoulders. Have you noticed a wonderful change lately? No, not the baklava, silly. Have you noticed how warm you are when outside? How snuggled in downy goodness? Let's hear it for the fabulous new winter coat you are wrapped in. That shivering from last year had to go, especially with all that dog walking. Here's to many winter adventures, including (fingers crossed) skiing with the kids, snowshoeing, and sledding. p.s. Rear end, I've even got you covered here, just like you prefer.

Love,

Cozy me

. . .

Dear Hair,

Yeah. Sorry. You've been neglected. Hang in there! (Ha, ha.)

Love,

Shaggy, lazy me

. . .

photo via here

In praise of men's voices

Today on my way in to Tufts, this song came on my ipod mix. There's something about the sound of men singing, right? Ben Wishaw (as Keats) and the Human Orchestra in Bright Star. Listen:

I must be getting old because I think Ben Wishaw's adorable in a want-to-take-care-of-him-and-pack-his-lunches-and-make-him-dress-warmly kind of way. A maternal crush? Is there such a thing? Please tell me I'm not alone. Behold:

See? Adorable.

Maybe I can start a little Home for Tender Undernourished Actors. HTUA.