He Said/She Said re: The Happening

(This first section is my husband's reviw of M. Night Shyamalan's new film, "The Happening." What follows is my humble response to him.)


Hey you kids, keep off the grass!!!!

Ok, I don't want to give too much away, but once you've seen "The Happening" you'll understand. That is, IF you see "The Happening." My recommendation is that you save your 8 bucks and find something constructive to do with that hour and a half. But, you're a free, autonomous sentient being... do what you will.

So yes, I thought the movie bit the big one. Understand, though, that I'm not an M. Knight-hater, although I do believe his first movie was his best, and they have steadily declined in quality since "The Sixth Sense." Occasionally, a Shyamalan joint surprises and rises above the pack - "Signs" for example (though it definitely had its weak moments too). I felt robbed by "The Village," and wanted to like it, but found too many reasons not to.

So it was with "Happening." I wanted to like it. I wanted to be surprised and delighted by Shyamalan again. But the acting, the dialog, and the general storyline itself just proved disappointing. Cardboard characters muttering inexplicable lines while Shy-man tries to create suspense out of wind and shrubs. It just wasn't... er... happening. Speaking of which, if the characters and extras used the word "happening" one more time, I was prepared to shoot myself. I fully expected someone to turn on a TV and see Fred "Rerun" Berry scream "What's Happenin,' Dewayne!" at any moment (70's pop culture reference. If you don't get it, you're too young).

You think you know someone after 18 years, but walking out of the theater with my wife was like walking out with a stranger. She loved it. I couldn't believe it. She, however, belongs to the "M. Knight's Poop Smells Like Roses" club, so in her eyes, Shy-man can do no wrong. In this guy's opinion, however, the poopy which M. Knight made for us all to spend our hard-earned dollars on was just that: a steaming, smelly pile of feces. And he did it in the long grass, where we couldn't see it before we stepped in it!



Oh my sad and dreary-eyed hubby...what you have failed to appreciate, once again, with M. Night's latest WONDERFUL offering, is that movies don't have to shoot laser beams or blow stuff up real good to entertain us. Sometimes it's enough to just be in the moment...to just let the film cast its spell over you. Plain and simple. Does there always have to be a twist that knocks your socks off? What about just making a beautiful film that allows the viewer to think about the world around them?

The movie's overall message was reflective; so that's what the characters did--reflect. I thought they were believable. No Oscar material here, though. I'll give you that. How would you react if this "happening" was happening around you? And you didn't even mention the news coverage in the movie. I thought those segments added to the suspense and realism of it all. Totally creepy!

And for the record, yes, I am a fan of the Shy-man. But I am discrening enough to realize that some of his films work better than others. Therefore, I'll save my KUDOS for "The Happening" and not for your review.

Love you!

Nice Shootin', Tex

I have an unusual passion for the female of the species....I love video games. More specifically, I love shooting, racing, and fighting video games. Not to sound sexist, but come on. How many chicks do you know who would jump at the chance to kick your behind at Mortal Kombat?

My favorite type of video game of all is the aforementioned shooting type. Whether it's just targets, dinosaurs, or zombies, if shootin's involved, sign me up. My husband and I have spent hours trying to outdo eachother with each game system we have ended up purchasing.

Then why on Earth was I so put off by Call of Duty 4? Eww...is all I can say. My husband was playing last night, waiting my return from the bedtime rituals with our children so that we could try a new game for the 360; Bully something or other. When I finally joined him, he was lost in the combat zone.

I watched, trying to ascertain if I wanted a turn. "This is pretty realistic, isn't it?" I naively asked. "Yeah, it's amazing!" was his exhuberant reply. And yes, the graphics were unbelievable.

I watched as he snuck up behind the "terrorists" and literally blew them to shreds. "Do you get any extra points for hitting that garbage can?" I inquired, feigning interest. "No baby, it's not like that," he chuckled. "Well, can you shoot up the car?" "Sure," he said, "but you don't want to waste your bullets or your time with that."

Hmm....this doesn't seem fun to me. When I play a video game, I want to do the unreal, like kill the undead. For me, there's no fun to be had in realistic war games.

This got me to thinking....could video games actually be bad? I've always been an avid supporter of them. When discussions would pop up that the violence in video games has led some kids to commit acts of violence against another, I've always used myself and my husband as examples. "Hey, we've been playing these games for almost 30 years and we're not violent. We have enough common sense to know what's real and what's not. We have the ability to think before we act. Stop blaming these games for other people's lack of moral conscience."

Wait a second.....this Call of Duty game is actually bothering me. As I watched my husband, I found myself growing concerned for the millions of kids that are playing it. Maybe this is getting them too amped up to run off and join the army when they turn 18. They'd be getting fabulous training; my husband even admitted that. I felt myself growing sickened the more I watched him play. But it wasn't just the bloodshed that brought me down...it was the realism of the killing. Something about it just didn't seem right.

I'm not so sure where I stand now in my ardent belief that these games are totally innocent. Maybe I'm getting old; my kids would probably say that. Maybe I'm not as much of die-hard gamer as I once thought. I'm not saying I'm ready to have games of this nature banned. But I think we might need to look at the world around us, the current one, the one with the real war happening as you read this, and then think twice about how our children spend their free time.

Now, moving on....who's up for House of the Dead?

Graveyard of Abandoned Carts

(This may end up being the first in a series of periodical pet peeves....we'll see.)

Why do people find it so hard to put shopping carts away? Is it laziness? Is it selfishness? Is it apathy? Don't they know what happens to those wayward carts?

Leaving the Whole Foods parking lot today, I found myself stunned by the number of abandoned carts. As I looked around, I realized the number of stalls was surprisingly limited. And, they were spaced a good distance. However, isn't this the place where people who "care about the world" shop? Wouldn't it make sense that if carts were going to make it out of the way of cars and pedestrians, they would here?

I'm not really sure what motivates, or should I say, un-motivates, people to leave their carts where they last used them, but in my opinion, it's just plain rude.

So here's a challenge to all of you...return your cart the next time you're out and about. Try to look at a short walk to the cart stalls as a bonus opportunity for some exercise. It's small, but it's a step in the right direction...don't you think?

A Mixed Basket

I am kind of a date-obsessed person, I guess. I remember dates. Dates of important events. Dates of extremely non-important events. I always looked at it as a blessing; a skill. A "lookey what I can do" kind of trick. But lately I am feeling somewhat trapped by it.

On the one hand, I have something to look forward to tomorrow. It'll be the 18th anniversary of my first date with my husband. We always celebrate it. That's when our life story together began, afterall. I can recall the days leading up to the date. I savor the memories of our very first night out. (That's another blog one of these days...)

The day after that, however, I am not looking forward to. In fact, I'd rather hide under the covers until it passes. It'll be the 3rd anniversary of my mother's death. Thanks to my stunning visual memory skills, I can remember everything about her last week on this planet; every detail. I feel almost haunted by it.

So this leaves me with a mixed bag, or should I say basket, of emotions this Easter Sunday. Holidays just aren't the same without my mom. Nothing is. But in addition to this fact, my husband and I are finding ourselves growing out of "traditional thinking boxes" mold. I want to be open. I want to be free.

So, why do I feel so out of sorts?

To speak or not to speak...?

A dear friend of mine has suggested that everyone blog everyday. Maybe a lofty goal for me, but I figured I would try to rise to the challenge. We'll see how long it lasts. Now for a quick confession...It's been a little over a year since my last blog entry.



What struck me all day yesterday was how conflicted I was over putting my money where my mouth is. You see, I have spent the past dozen years trying to teach my two daughters that it doesn't matter what others say or think about you. It's who you are on the inside that counts. As long as you are happy with yourself, that's all that really matters. Don't give in to the pressure to conform. Be who you are. And yadda-yadda-yadda.



Then, as we were about to leave for lunch and errands as a family, my 11 year old comes downstairs in a startling contrasting outfit. Imagine: stripes, plaids, and other patterns, all in opposing color schemes. It was ecclectic enough that my "break out of the mold" husband bent down to whisper in my ear, "Are you seriously going to let her leave the house like that?"



Good question....and so it began; my struggle with do I say something or not. Am I a better parent for trying to save her from embarassment and ugly stares or comments? Or I am better for accepting her and allowing her to find and express herself? If it really doesn't matter what you look like on the outside, then why I am so troubled with opening the front door?



Well, we left and I kept mum. I decided that sometimes life's best lessons just happen on their own. Whether it would be her learning a styling lesson or me learning to practice what I preach, a lesson would be a good thing for the first day of spring.

Enslavement--- part 1

I don't know exactly when it became an addiction. Believe me; I've tried to rack my brain with remembering the point at which my enthusiasm became compulsion, but had no success. At some point in the past six months, I crossed an invisible line. All I know for certain is that my every waking moment is filled with this craving.

As soon as my eyes find the morning light, I look forward to going downstairs to make my tea; not for the allure of the tea itself, but rather, what awaits me as I give in to this growing dependency. I know it's a pattern of learned behavior, but it gets my day started just right.

While I am away from home, I experience saddness. The memory of my passing fancy floods my mind. "How much longer do I have to wait? It's just not fair!" At times, the withdrawl is unbearable. Concentrate. Focus. Be strong. "You are more than this," I remind myself. The days can be so long.

In the afternoons, as I make the drive from school to home, I find my thoughts wandering. The attraction increases and I find myself pushing the gas pedal a little harder. I can hardly wait until I can satistfy my habit. The infatuation only intensifies when I walk in the front door. I barely kiss my husband hello before heading off to feed my secret desire.

I have been caught (on more than one occasion), sneaking a late night fix. Oh the pure joy! But I shouldn't be guilt-ridden, should I? It's not that bad. Still, I find myself needing just one more...then, another...oh, it can't hurt; just one more small one. This is the spell I am under.

Are there any cures to ease this constant jonesing I have??? Is it something I should embrace or shun? Can you guess what I am bent on?

To be continued.....

Cool Moms Club

My friend Becky and I have apparently been granted admission into what is known to tweens everywhere as "The Cool Moms Club." How long this status will last is uncertain. Possibly, even fleeting. So, what exactly is this club and where can you sign up, you ask? Let me back up for you and tell you how it all began...

The girls love music and ask to go to concerts frequently. They hear them advertised on a daily basis on the radio. The unfortunate thing is that because of the town we live in, the over-whelming majority of these shows are at clubs and bars. Try explaining that to your 10 and 11 year old. "That stinks!" "That's not fair!!!" "Do old people even like this music?"

Well, finally along came a concert that was playing at the Orleans Arena and was advertised as "all ages." Not only that, but it was a band that Hannah and Eva were crazy about. I checked the prices...$30. Were they serious? Since I also happen to like this band and, seeing as how the girls were still too young to go to a concert by themselves, I decided that I would take them. Plus, Rob wasn't interested in going in the least. That was it. We were going. It was all set.

We ended up going with some good friends of ours, Becky and two of her kids, Drew and Kathryn. Plus, Hannah and Eva brought along a friend of theirs, Haily. So here were Becky and I, in the middle of arena rock concert madness... along with hundreds of other parents, following at a safe distance behind our children who weren't even old enough to drive. At least we weren't alone in the insanity.

The concert itself was actually amazing. Think of 'Cirque du Soleil' for the tween set. There were gymnasts and acrobats, mimes, a guy on stilts, and burlesque-style dancers. It was all in good fun, though, and immensely entertaining. Out of all of the concerts I have been to in my life, none can possibly come close to the spectacle of variety and performance art that I saw that night. We had a blast!

At school the other day, several of the girls' friends ran up to me and said, "You took Hannah and Eva to the 'Panic at the Disco' concert?!! You are such a cool mom!" Wow... really? Do my children think so, too? Now, is that a lifetime status or is it revocable once they're in middle school and they have friends over while I'm singing karaoke?