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Day 28
Before I begin rambling about something else, I’d like to edit my post from yesterday. Far From Home is the best live-action Spiderman. But Into the Spiderverse is currently the best Spiderman movie that has been released. We watched it again tonight .. just effing brilliant.
Brilliant.
Anyway, moving right along– I got my laptop out for the first time in ages and let me say, typing on my laptop is vastly superior to typing on my iPad. I *do* keep touching the screen and getting frustrated when nothing happens (I’m special okay?) but otherwise, it’s really nice to type on a full-sized keyboard.
I finished reading American Buffalo today. I don’t know why it took me so long to read it because I loved every minute of it. It filled my brain full of curiosity and questions and awe for the history of an animal I knew very little about.
I have a million things I want to say and yet, I can’t find a good place to start.
It feels like Steven Rinella has always been a part of John + my life but in reality, John probably only discovered him and his TV show and podcast (of the same name — Meateater) about two plus years ago. It has profoundly influenced our lives (moreso John’s than mine but by extension). And when John ordered some of Steve’s books from the website (signed copies!!) I idly picked one up and then … never fully set it back down.
I haven’t watched a single TV episode and have only listened to a handful of podcasts. But the book captured my imagination almost instantly. It wove its way through a myriad of things I knew very little about, and because of that I was fascinated. I felt like I was truly learning something new for the first time in a very long time. When I closed it for the last time today, it stayed with me, a shadow of every thought in my brain.
It wasn’t just the history of bison bison across hundreds of thousands of years or the complicated relationship of humans and buffalos. It wasn’t just his quest to hunt and kill a buffalo in Alaska in 2005 after miraculously pulling one of only 24 licenses issued. It wasn’t the archaeology or the anthropology or sociology or economic history. It wasn’t Steve’s personal story, of his love of hunting, his brothers, his discovery of a buffalo skull that triggered the whole thing. It was *all* of it.
It helped me understand an entirely new dimension of my husband. It educated me on the complexities of the European expansion across the United States, the misconceptions of many different factions of people regarding Native American history, buffalo history, hunting history.
I really, really loved it. Read it.
xox, g
Day 27
I’m a very competitive person.
Sometimes this plays in my favor. Other times … it does not.
Recently I’ve become preoccupied with challenges on the Peloton and in doing so, have so fully exhausted myself that I had to take a time out. Recognizing that need was difficult; actually doing it was nearly impossible. I will push myself past all my limits in a fruitless attempt to prove that I can do anything I want. But the truth is, if I do anything I want, there will be consequences, a balancing out. My body can’t sustain hours of cardio and strength workouts every day indefinitely. It just isn’t equipped to do that. And even if it was, it means I can’t do anything else with any degree of efficiency (& this, I have learned clearly over the past few weeks).
So today, the third day that I struggled to get out of bed, I decided to rest. And I spent the day on the couch watching Marvel movies.
Recently, John + I decided to purchase all the Spider-Man movies in a bundle pack, because even though we own the two newest (of the MCU) we didn’t have either Tobey Maguire or Andrew Garfield’s movies. And we like binge-watching so this seemed as good a thing to binge as anything, considering that characters from both those franchises are rumored to be featured in the newest MCU installment (tentatively scheduled for release in December of this year).
We weren’t always MCU nuts, but once we went down the rabbit hole, we really committed. So this newest purchase wasn’t outside the realm of things we would do.
Having now watched all seven movies (recently) I can understand why the MCU might have picked the villains they picked to re-introduce. And seeing the different iterations of Peter Parker is fascinating in the progression of the character. Could Tom Holland’s Spidey be as good as he is had Tobey Maguire and Andrew Garfield not preceded him? I’m not sure. I like how each Spidey is his own unique interpretation of the character. But there are also so many similarities in the interpretations that are kind of fascinating.
To begin, I loved the Tobey Maguire movies when they came out. Revisiting them was nostalgic, but it also highlighted to me how weak he was as an actor, and certain compromises that seem to be made in Spidey to accommodate for that. Andrew Garfield, a much stronger actor, made Spidey funnier, more nuanced, and altogether more Marvel (for lack of a better descriptive word). The second “Amazing Spider-Man” (which suffered a little from the same disease as the third Tobey Maguire Spidey … aka, too many stories happening to do them all justice) was actually pretty powerful in its portrayal of Electro, the love story of Gwen and Peter and Gwen’s ultimate demise. My heart still stopped watching her fall and that final moment when Peter’s web caught her but she was too close to the ground. Oof. I loved the humanity of Sally Field’s Aunt May (and Martin Sheen’s Uncle Ben) and all in all, I much preferred those two movies to the first three.
And that brings us to Tom Holland and the behemoth that is MCU.
Do I think Spider-Man: Homecoming is the best movie ever? No. It’s not even the best Spidey movie (I reserve that for Far From Home). But it so significantly improves upon all that came before it that it’s hard to compare. To begin, the ages of the main characters are much more realistic than 27-year-old Tobey Maguire playing a high schooler. Tom Holland is a delightful blend of funny, insecure, intelligent and awkward that makes his portrayal of Spider-Man utterly enjoyable. And the supporting cast —- Flash and Aunt May (who doesn’t love Marisa Tomei?!?) and Ned and MJ …. all brilliant. Jake Gyllenhall’s Mysterio is amazing — a crazy blend of mentor and villain and mastermind and insecure megalomaniac. And Michael Keaton as Vulture in Homecoming? Loved it. Loved it even more re-watching it. They just elevated the game to a whole new level.
Anyway. That’s what I was up to today. That, and discussing with John the pitfalls of my Peloton obsession. Oh well. I guess I just have to keep learning the same lessons over and over until I get it. Life, right?
Xoxo, g
wakanda forever
I woke up early Saturday morning. Lucy had had surgery the day before and we’d all curled up and fallen asleep at our usual time (aka, early). I picked up my phone and scrolled Instagram (as I do). At first I was confused … why were there so many Black Panther posts?
And then it all began to make sense. I scrolled faster, I searched. I read bits and pieces, achingly sad snippets from person after person. I finally read the post on Chadwick Boseman’s page. I can’t explain how it made me feel.
At first, I hoped that maybe, it wasn’t true. Maybe I wasn’t understanding it properly. How had I not known he was sick? Maybe we’d all just collectively learned about his cancer. He couldn’t possibly be … dead.
And then, after reading the truth, my whole body began to shake, tears streaming down my face, my breathing shallow and uneven. This man, this king, this enigma had died of colon cancer. And he was barely older than me.
Colon cancer. The beast that took my mother, my grandfather. It terrified me.
Looking back at recent photos of Chadwick, I could see the cancer in his face — that tired, drawn look of someone smiling through pain. The look that haunted my mother’s face for more time than we all acknowledged. The grayness, the dull skin, the too-large eyes against hollowing cheeks, a stark jawline.
He hid it well. Some sick people really do. He focused on the things that mattered to him, the things he wanted to accomplish, and promote. He believed he would beat cancer. He didn’t distract the world with his illness and take away from the spendor of what he did, what he accomplished as an actor and an artist. He let his work speak, his thoughtful responses to questions. His actions, both public and private.
And we all mourn him, and marvel at what he was able to do, while battling silently.
My heart breaks over and over again. Every day, every time I think through the choices he made in the face of devastating odds. He was so much more than an actor. He was the embodiment of a king, a legend. A soul meant to teach us and guide us. A soul taken far too soon.
I think about my own health battles ~ the war I wage every day against an unbeatable foe. And I find inspiration in his example; in his relentless pursuit of his dreams.
Wakanda Forever.
xox, g
reset
It’s been a minute since my last post.
I was feeling a little lost. A little … unclear about what was going on with life. Because my mother died, of course. But with that came so many other things. Life irrevocably changed. My dad is different, our family is different. Everything feels seismically shifted since we lost her. I am alone, floating, directionless. Confused.
So, after awhile, I thought maybe I should come back to the blog. Write. Scream into the void. Maybe it would help. Maybe writing the things I don’t say would be therapeutic.
But I don’t know where to start. I began this blog as a cooking blog but that changed with my MS diagnosis. Also … because, I mean, I like food. And I like eating. But cooking and creating recipes? Not really my thing. I guess that’s something that comes with age. Knowing yourself so much better. Knowing when to call it, when to say, “Yeah, that’s not my bag, thank you very much.” I worked in the hospitality/restaurant industry for 22 years and I can say with all confidence, it wasn’t really my bag. Did I love things about it? Yes. Was innovative food exciting and the beauty and art of wine sort of intoxicating? Absolutely. And being in the industry while it became the hottest industry in the country … yeah, that was pretty cool. But that saying about doing something you love and never working a day in your life? It didn’t apply to my time in restaurants.
Since stopping working I’ve been sort of in love with a couple things … exercise and wellness, skincare and my all-time deepest love, entertainment. So I figured I’d just come back to this space, write about what’s on my mind and what I’m reading/watching/listening to. And maybe I’ll find a direction as I go.
What I’m Watching: So, Husby and I just finished watching Deadwood (both the three seasons of the HBO show and the movie they recently made to give fans closure after 13 years). Once we go through the first couple episodes and settled in, we really enjoyed it. It wasn’t perfect. There were entire episodes when we weren’t really sure what was going on. But Ian McShane made it all worth it. He is utterly brilliant. And the character studies were sort of beautiful. Flawed people, the grayness between right and wrong and the things people do in the name of survival. The portrayal of a prospecting town and the beginnings of ‘civilization’ coming to the wild (north) west. The beauty and subtlety of certain stories outweighed some of the flaws or stereotypes and strangely written dialogue. I felt the movie was an apropos closure written for fans and gave satisfactory payoffs to stories left dangling when the show was abruptly cancelled in 2006.
We also watched a couple good movies yesterday. I say ‘good’ not because they are Oscar worthy films (or that we are the type of people who only watch those kinds of movies) but because they hit different sweet spots. We watched Murder Mystery with Adam Sandler and Jennifer Aniston on Netflix and that was just fun. I read one review that said the writer wondered what dropping a blue collar American couple in an Agatha Christie novel would be like and I have to say, that’s a pretty excellent description, intended or not. If you aren’t looking for anything too heavy and are up for a good time (without too many questions or deep character studies) it’s an enjoyable romp.
After watching that, we switched it up and watched Juliet, Naked which I enjoyed as a film but also because there were so many English things — the sound of the seagulls, the town, the beach. It made me nostalgic for Berwick-upon-Tweed, visiting my grandparents, and waking up in their attic bedroom, the seagulls singing good morning. I loved the gentleness of the movie, and the observations about human nature and human relations. About how we view others, and the assumptions we make about other people’s lives, based on very little information. About the choices we make as people, our mistakes, our intentions. About the gray-ness of life. And the unexpected bright spots. I won’t lie, I’m watching it again as I type this, and I’m enjoying it all over again. Human communication through written word (not Instagram, or emojis or text messages but letters, complete sentences, thoughts on paper). A beautiful thing.
What I’m Reading: Husby and I created a shelf for all our unread books after Christmas this past year. It sits right under our television. I haven’t read nearly enough of the books that sit there but I am trying. I am working hard to put my phone down and explore other alternatives. It’s a challenge. Currently, I am reading a book from Reese Witherspoon’s book club called The Alice Network. What I have loved about it is the readability, but also the historic facts that inspired it (sort of like the real people who informed Deadwood … I guess that’s my thing right now). There was a woman at the beginning of the First World War who served as a spy for the British and her story is fascinating. The book weaves that truth in with its fiction and it is an easy, imminently readable book.
What I’m Listening to: Husby & I watched the Tonys a few weeks ago and I fell head over feet in love with the music of Hadestown. The jazz and folk-influenced music used to tell a story of ancient Greek myths. Near perfection. Plus, the performance and the light design stole my whole heart. We downloaded two different recordings ~ the new Original Broadway Cast (which won’t be completely available until the end of July due to a character-based rollout of the music) and a recording from 2017 entitled Hadestown: The Myth. The Musical. which features Chris Sullivan (aka Toby from This Is Us) as Hermes. Husby and I love his interpretation of the music, his Puckish stylings and his overall narration through the music. As a sidenote, I also love Andre de Shields interpretation and love having both recordings. I also adored de Shields’ Tony acceptance speech and his three points of life advice (1. Surround yourself with people whose eyes light up when you enter a room, 2. Slow is the fastest way to get to the places you want to go and 3. The top of the mountain is just the bottom of another mountain.)
Okay. So that’s me for now. Recovering from surgery, stuck on the couch. Trying to enjoy my down time (and missing exercise something fierce!).
xox, g
brian o’connor
During my last year of college I lived in a row of three houses filled with theatre majors. It was a fun block and group of people. I’m not in touch with many of them today (other than Facebook, but we’re the generation who grew up without Facebook, so a lot of us function without it … which means not a lot of online living). But through the years, oddly enough, I have stayed in touch with my next door neighbor and friend Matthew. And to some extent, through Matthew, his brother Brennen. Matthew is a successful actor in New York City and Brennen is a successful architect back in Pittsburgh (where they are from).
But when I think of Matthew and Brennen, the first thing I think about is Brennen’s Laser (dark blue, and always sitting in the common driveway, the hood popped up and Brennen’s upper torso leaning over the engine -for a purpose none of us were ever too interested in).
It’s hard, in a few words, to describe that year I lived on North Atherton surrounded by those boys, but I have memories for days. Brennen and the Laser, playing video games (the only time in my life, and only for a few months before Brennen took our Playstation away, pointing out that we’d completely stopped doing anything else). Writing music, listening to music, sitting and talking for hours at a time. It was a magical year.
It was also the year that I was first exposed to “The Fast & the Furious.” And, for reasons I still cannot pinpoint, I fell in love with it.
When John and I started dating, we watched the fourth movie on a bootleg internet site – the coming back of Vin Diesel and Brian O’Connor after the (in my opinion) blasphemy of ‘Tokyo Drift.’ We saw ‘Fast Five’ in the theatre on opening weekend. And the sixth.
And then, like a shock wave, Paul Walker died.
I cannot explain why it affected me the way it did. I was absolutely devastated. I watched all my DVDs for days, watched Brian O’Connor wearing his chucks and vans. Smiled with tears in my eyes when he spoke. Tweeted too many times with the hashtag “Remember the Buster.” I wore chucks for a week leading up to the release of F&F 7, and was there for a matinée showing on its opening day. I don’t think I paid very much attention to the movie ~ I was transfixed with watching Paul Walker on-screen. And I still cry every time I see the end sequence of that movie. Big, hot, emotional tears.
So when “The Fate of the Furious” was released, I felt a little torn about seeing it. Hubs was hoping that with the departure of Brian O’Connor (Paul Walker’s character in the movies), I would move on from my “Fast and Furious” obsession. We didn’t see it in the theatre. I listened to, but stayed quiet, about all the reviews. Was I ready to see a new F&F movie without Brian O’Connor? I didn’t know.
But I pre-ordered it on iTunes because deep down, I couldn’t turn my back on this series of movies that have grown more and more absurd as their popularity has grown. I love them too much. I still think about Paul Walker asking for his tuna sandwich, no crust and am magnetically drawn to the films. So John and I sat down to watch it this week.
To me, there was a gaping hole where Brian O’Connor should have been. But, I also considered that life goes on for all of us when we lose someone we love. Life continues, and the hole is there and the memories are there and the emptiness drums in the background, the heartbeat of the person we’ve lost.
It was better than I thought it would be. It felt like there was a story again – something that I’d felt was missing from the sixth and seventh installments. My breath caught in my throat when Roman (Tyrese Gibson) and Letty (Michelle Rodriguez) mentioned Brian in the middle of the movie. And I cried at the end, knowing but waiting for confirmation of what I’d guessed.
I don’t know why I love the movies. Life, maybe? Good memories? And I certainly can’t explain why I was so ripped apart by an actor’s death — a person I didn’t even know. And yet, I was. I remain staunchly loyal to Brian O’Connor. The Buster. Tuna, no Crust.
And I’ll keep watching the Fast & Furious movies until they stop being made. Because I can’t give up now.
legolas
It was January 2002.
I’d come home from studying in Italy and my brother — in his infinite wisdom and willingness to help — had secured me a room for spring semester in a sorority house. Possibly important to note here, I am not in a sorority and never have been. But he’d met a girl in Italian class who was headed to Rome as I was coming back, so he snagged her room for me.
I have memories of my parents coming up to move us both back in — but I must have driven, too, because at the time, I was the proud owner of Helen, my shiny red Honda Civic.
It wasn’t snowing when we arrived and carted all my boxes into the room that would be my home for the next few months. We might have gone out for lunch. I don’t remember. I do remember that after everyone left, and I was alone, it began to snow and I listlessly began to put my things away. I was living in a house full of women I didn’t know. Back in a town that — until that point in time — had not been very kind to me. I wasn’t in Rome. I was alone in State College.
It’s hard to remember all the details, this many years gone, but I know that I was terrible at feeding myself (I didn’t really start to cook until I was nearly 30) and I was very sad. I remember meeting the girl in the room next to me — far too chipper, far too happy about life. Her hair fanning out like a fountain from her high pony tail. She seemed nice enough (and we are friends to this day!) but I wasn’t very enthusiastic about anyone at that point.
I think I suffered through the entire next day putting my room together. I don’t think I went anywhere, because the snow had come fast and furious, and the roads weren’t inviting. It was probably dusk when i decided I couldn’t possibly stay in that house for one more minute. I bundled up, locked my door, and headed out to walk the streets.
It was bitterly cold. The wind was wicked, spreading the already fallen snow across bare surfaces, numbing any exposed skin. The snow was like powder, a fine dust in the twilight. The streets were fairly empty; both of cars and people.
When I went to school at Penn State, there were two downtown movie theaters. By this time, the small, one screen cinema had closed and was in the process of being turned into something new. But the multi-screen one across from the metered parking lot and next to the Gingerbread Man (also, sadly, extinct) was still there. When I couldn’t bear the cold anymore, I stumbled into the lobby, hoping to find a movie that was starting soon. I’d seen “Ocean’s 11” over Christmas break, and I would’ve watched that again.
But absolutely nothing was starting within an hour except for “Fellowship of the Ring.”
I remember taking a keep breath and weighing my options. Go see a movie I had absolutely less than zero interest in ever seeing and be alone, in the warmth, for a few hours (and thus avoiding returning to the sorority house). Or continue to wander the streets, and have to go back to that house.
I bought a ticket.
The movie theatre had multiple screens, but some were very small, with only ten or twelve rows of five or six seats. It was playing in one of those, and I shuffled into a seat near the back. There was a smattering of people in the seats in front of me. I peeled my coat off, and tried to warm up. I think I’d bought myself a soda and some popcorn. It wasn’t long until the theatre dimmed.
There were no previews.
I sunk low in my seat, wondering if I could possibly sleep. I was tired, and that house was so unfamiliar. It was so cold.
And then the movie began. And I was completely transported from the first moment. I found Hobbiton endearing, and the Riders in Black terrifying. I loved Merry and Pippin and the dogged loyalty of Samwise. I loved the stoic nobility of Aragorn and the majestic beauty of Legolas.
In a strange, surreal sort of way, “The Fellowship of the Ring” saved me. Those first few weeks living in the DZ house were rough. But I didn’t care anymore, because Tolkien and Peter Jackson had completely transfixed me with the story of One Ring and Middle Earth. It didn’t matter that I didn’t want to be back at school, that I felt as though I had no friends. None of it mattered, because I had Frodo, and Merry and Pippin and Samwise. I had Gandalf and Gimli and Aragorn and Arwen and Legolas.
To this day, my husband puts on “Fellowship” when I am sad, when I am tired. When I need comfort. We have watched it more times than I can count. I know most of the lines. It feels magical, even fifteen years later. Literature – creativity and imagination — those are the things that have always saved me across the years. When I’ve been alone, deserted, lost. Something that lifts you up and takes you somewhere new. Somewhere exciting and unknown. Something created from nothing.
small respite
It’s not often nowadays that the man and I sit down and watch a movie sans devices and distractions. And yet, somehow, last night we did just that completely out of the blue. Finished with our Downton catch up, we noticed a movie that we’d both be hankering to see – and so, we watched.
Lasse Hallstrom’s “The 100 Foot Journey” is everything that is good about food. Food is wondrous, and beautiful and creative and sensual. It is all things and no things — that’s sort of how I feel about the intangibility of it.
There are some film shots in the movie that made me fall in love with cooking all over again — and I’ve had a very long love affair with food.
It’s a simple and gentle film — it doesn’t sucker punch you, and it makes you fall in love with the beauty of France, even if you didn’t mean to.
It’s been a long and winding week. Some good news, some excitement, a lot of stress and pressure for the end of the month. And last night I dreamt of whisking fresh eggs in the French countryside. That’s how visceral the film was. And human, in a Hollywood sort of way.
It’s exactly what I needed.
contrary
I’ve been in quite the mood today. So let me get a few things off my chest.
Watching Pittsburgh play last night was agonizing and heartbreakingly frustrating. I’m sad their playoff run ended so soon — but I couldn’t have watched that team struggle through another game. It was painful. I will miss the veterans on defense whom I am assuming will not be re-signed next year (Kiesel, Harrison, Taylor … dare I say Polamalu?) I will not miss watching the defense struggle when the Steeler’s defense shouldn’t struggle. Ever.
Next up: Whenever I begin watching one of “The Hobbit” movies all.I.want.to.watch is “Lord of the Rings.” I’m sure I’ll get over that one day and really crave returning to Bilbo’s adventure with the dwarves. But right now — I just really need a little Frodo and Sam — with some Strider and Legolas thrown in. Essentially the entire feeling of “The Fellowship of the Ring” — none of which “The Hobbit” films have.
Let’s take a little trip down memory lane …. Hopefully it clears up some of my love for the LoTR films.
In early 2002 I’d just returned from studying abroad in Italy. I’d wanted to stay another semester but circumstances (and finances) prevented it so I found myself back in State College, half-way moved into a room my brother sublet for me in a sorority house (sidenote: I am not, nor have I ever been, in a sorority). My parents had driven the two of us back to school on a cold January afternoon and nearly instantly headed home — for fear of getting stranded by the impending snowstorm.
The snow hit, and I unenthusiastically tried to put my room together. I was sad, and scared and not at all happy to be back at school. I felt alone. Really, fully, in my bones, alone. So — after meeting the girls who would be my housemates for a semester (one of whom is still my great friend, so it all ended up working out!) I decided to go for a walk. I bundled up (it was cold cold cold) and shuffled around State College (where the sidewalks weren’t all shoveled yet and no one was really out and about). After some walking and far too much introspective thinking, I found myself outside the movie theater and decided to see if anything was playing. I’d seen Ocean’s 11 that break and had really loved it — I thought watching that again was vastly preferable to returning to my new ‘home.’
Ocean’s 11 had begun half an hour earlier, and wasn’t playing again for quite some time. In fact, everything in the theatre had start times in over an hour, except The Fellowship of the Ring. I had absolutely zero desire to see JRR Tolkien’s epic. As in — none. I’d read The Hobbit during middle school and enjoyed it. But I had failed to be even slightly intrigued by the density of The Lord of the Rings. (That’s the nicest way I can think to describe trying to read Tolkien).
But I also REALLY didn’t want to go back to the sorority house. So I paid for a ticket, and after taking off several layers of snowy clothing and buying some popcorn and a soda, I settled into the last row of what was perhaps the smallest movie theatre I’d ever been in. The previews had already begun (I remember thinking forlornly that I’d missed the best part) and I watched and waited for the film to start.
And — not to be overly dramatic — it completely swept me away. And continues to do so to this day.
That movie, on that day, at that time — something about it was so magical, so transporting — that all the sadness and loneliness of being back at Penn State seemed to melt away into the background. And strangely — it was also a turning point. My college experience began to change then — school seemed less dismal, and I made new friends — friends to go drink margaritas with at Mad Mex, friends who came to see me in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, friends who brought me to cross training classes at local gyms … and so many other things! — sometime I’ll have to revisit the day Minda and I drank White Merlot and watched an entire season of Buffy while the fraternity next door did mud slides on their front lawn. The next year I became a total theatre school nerd, did lots of shows (both on stage and on crew) and made more friends who are still in my life today.
I know it probably sounds hokey, but there’s a part of me that feels as though that movie saved my life. Certainly changed my life. And maybe it did, maybe it didn’t. But it feels like it did to me. So a lot of times, when things feel a little overwhelming, all I want is to drift away into Middle Earth and forget my woes.
As I’ve written this, I’ve sort of marveled at how strongly things have marked time in my life. I can remember so many clear details of opening the door to the movie theater in downtown State College (that no longer exists) and being overwhelmingly disappointed that not a single other movie was available for me to see. And I also remember walking home in the blustering wind, still halfway in Middle Earth — plotting to buy the books (which I did) and read them from cover to cover (which I did not). Totally transported to a place of imagination and wonder. I saw the movie another two times in the theatre, and the subsequent sequels on opening night (Return of the King —midnight showing with my roommate at the time — nearly killed me! I was so tired by the end and I swear — the sun was coming up when we left the theatre!).
So I stared this post with a completely different intention. But I enjoyed walking down memory lane. I am glad of the significance this film has played in my life (just ask the man — we both completely love it). I’m glad I remembered the story of how I found it. It’s been a crazy trip down memory lane. Insane to think it was 12 years ago. Time is an amazing thing.
noah & his ark
The man and I watched “Noah” last night.
It’s been on my mind all day.
And I had a good day. I got a lot of work done and ran some (very) delayed errands. I nearly died (slight exaggeration) at LA Fitness swimming laps (I’m in a flare right now, so exercising may seem counter intuitive — but I had this wacky logic that the more I shy away from certain things because of my MS, the less things I will be able to do — so off to the gym I dragged myself and what a lesson in humility -and how out of shape I am – it was!)
And now, after a dinner of stuffed peppers (that wasn’t in any way earth -shattering) the man and I find ourselves watching “Noah” again. (That’s what you do when you get a 2 day rental On Demand, right?)
And it’s just as strange and intriguing the second time around.
It definitely has me asking questions I would never have thought to ask. And I believe that’s a good thing (although I fear that some groups may vehemently disagree with me. And that should -theoretically – be okay. Y’know, according to that little thing called the Bill of Rights. But I digress!)
I am fascinated by the director’s interpretation of the landscape, the societies that could have existed, the struggle that Noah faces as a man tasked with protecting the innocent from annihilation. Some of the camera shots are just stunning — and the pace of the story was incredibly well done considering the breadth of time covered.
Both the visceral nature of the film and its specific ambiguity just totally captured my mind. So any thought of a food blog, or an MS blog … or really anything else is totally beyond the scope of my thoughts right now. Right now I’m contemplating the stories of the bible, and how much room is left to fill in the details of the time, the personalities of the people. I mean, I’ve known the story of Noah for a long time and never have I ever questioned the way in which it was told to me or the specifics of the story.
Sort of the way Dr. Sadeghi talked about accepting beliefs without ever questioning their roots. Again, I digress.
I think now, upon the second viewing, what I love about the movie is exactly that — the writer and director’s fearless re-telling of a classic and -until now -unchanged story. It definitely pushes the boundaries of faith, but it also challenges us all to reconsider what we’ve always accepted without question and open up our minds to different perspectives.
paths of least resistance
Sometimes, on this crazy journey, I get more caught up in what I can no longer do, instead of focusing on what I can do. I think that’s inevitable ~ life felt established, with routines and traditions and then all of a sudden, those things were taken away, like a rug being pulled out from under my feet.
Every time I see someone posting on social media about running, I feel deflated and frustrated. I drive past the trails that Lucy and I used to run three or four mornings a week, and I am sad. I’d like to believe I will be able to run again, but the truth is, I don’t know. I feel so angry and defeated. I am full of regrets ~ regrets for not running Broad Street earlier this year before everything started with my legs … disappointed in myself for not running the Half Marathon last October in Atlantic City ~ something I may never have the opportunity to do again. It calls to mind the saying “Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today.” Had I not delayed, failed to train sufficiently last fall, at least now I would have the satisfaction of having run a half marathon, instead of the sadness that I got close and failed to get it done.
And then I think of all the things I am still able to do, and remind myself to be grateful for those things ~ yoga, swimming, walking. And I try to talk myself up and remind myself to focus on the positives. I know that what is most essential right now is action ~ creating a new routine, finding new ways to stay healthy and get exercise. But it’s harder than that … loading Lucy in the trunk of the car and heading to the trails was a matter of getting up and doing it. Swimming or yoga requires scheduling and can’t include my pupster, who deserves to stretch her legs even more than I do.
On a different, and more positive note, the start of this week was a busy one for me work-wise. Our third project hit full speed with a Tasting and Happy Hour for potential investors on Tuesday evening which had been preceded by a preliminary Panini tasting on Monday. Which has meant take-out three nights in a row at home. On Monday, I cheated and brought home treats from work (who can honestly say no to prosciutto, kunik and pizza? seriously). Tuesday was a visit to our favorite local sushi place (where they do actually know our names… and our order. As a small sidenote, there is something indefinably comforting about walking into a place of business and being recognized. I believe that is a legit part of Starbucks training … and not a bad idea. I know how important it was and what great relationships were built when I worked in restaurants every day instead of the office ~ a great part of real social interaction versus social media). We have been enjoying some choice selections from Pennsylvania’s Chairman Select collection. On Tuesday, we cracked open a bottle of Duckhorn Decoy Zinfandel. I happen to deeply love the thick headiness of a good Zin ~ the husby isn’t quite as big a fan (he prefers more dry, minerally juice) but we both enjoyed the bottle, and our movie pic, The Great Gatsby (directed by Baz Luhrmann). Totally didn’t expect the movie to be what it was but we were both completely drawn into the overly stylized telling of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s classic.
Last night we checked out a new take-out place, Palace of Asia. I was worn out (I
usually am by Wednesday … how lame is that?) and the man and I didn’t feel like shopping and then cooking. So after some menu perusing, we got a variety of vegetarian entrees featured on the Indian cuisine menu.
Whew. Delish. Despite the major language barrier encountered when calling in, we got everything we ordered, and enjoyed every bite. Our first entrée was a selection of nine garden vegetables (squash, potato, peas, etc) cooked in a spicy cream sauce (Korma ~ my favorite!). The second dish featured tiny potatoes stuffed with cheese in a kashmiri sauce (a super amazing cream sauce with nuts and raisins). For our first foray into Indian take-out, it was a success. Although I couldn’t eat that every week ~ much too heavy! I love the flavors and seasoning Indian food employs though ~ so outside of the flavors I grew up with and know. So decadent. We caught up on some sitcoms and enjoyed another bottle of Zin (the man is going to boycott soon) which was actually (dare I say it? sacrilege) a little superior to the Duckhorn.
At the end of October, my offices will move downtown again, and when that happens, I hope the husby and I can get into a groove with cooking, and the gym and Miss Lucy. Until then, I plan on enjoying the waning days of my easy commute and spending as much evening lounge time with my family as possible. This evening we are headed out to a Mexican “Haute Cuisine” BYOB in Old City (which we have only heard rave reviews about) … I am very much looking forward to it, and to continuing our streak of not cooking this whole week. (Hehe!)
Until tomorrow. xo.
D5 Creation