Children of All Ages: Go See This Movie

While enjoying our rented Mad Men season one DVDs these last couple of weeks, Jason and I had an epiphany: we are much more awed and impressed by the television of the last few years than we have been by the movies of the last few years. We liked The Dark Knight, and I was moved to tears by The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, and we so enjoyed Once that we immediately bought the soundtrack and played it in the car for one entire weekend. But those are the only standouts among "serious" movies for me in the last 18 months or so; the only movies that made me get emotionally involved and think and dream and ooh and ahh for days afterward. That's pretty sad.

Even in these hectic years A.A. (After Ainsley), movies are a big part of our entertainment. I would dare say movies have even been a bigger part after we had a child; we might not have been able to get Mamaw to babysit every time we wanted to see a movie in the theater, but we could always pop something in the DVD player after the kid was in bed. We had a few years there when we looked forward to movies coming out the way some people look ahead to vacations; I would mark things like "Return of the King premieres!" or "Have a sitter to go see Prisoner of Azkaban!" or "Spidey!" or "X-Men 2!" on my calendar and count down the days.

It's been years since I have felt that kind of excitement about a movie. And years since I felt the kind of cinematic wonder a movie like the Lord of The Rings films and even the Spiderman movies (all but the last one) inspires. It's both anticipation and pay-off. The movies we've seen in theaters the last couple of years mostly had just the one, but not the other. But for weeks before the Lost season premiere, I was downright giddy with excitement. And then after that episode...wow. Just...wow.

But here's another revelation I had just last night: some of the best movies I have seen in the past two years, some of the most entertaining, moving, and thought-provoking, have been movies made for children.

What gives?

Maybe it's because as a mom I now see the world through my kid's eyes. Maybe my brain has been so slushified by kids' TV fare like Hannah Montana and The Wiggles and (God help us all) Wonderpets that when something quality for kids comes down the line I see it as a veritable masterpiece. But I offer the following "children's" films from the last couple of years as evidence.

To top the list: Wall-E. Such beautiful animation that you forget it's animation. The speechless first 30 minutes are a work of art. And the message, that we need to take better care of our planet and take a second look at our rampant consumerism, is something that adults as well as children need to learn. Look at the number of movie critics who put it on their "top ten of 2008" lists and the fact that many thought it would be a Best Picture nominee; how often does an animated film make such an impact on those so-hard-to-please critics?

Then there's Enchanted. It got a little Oscar love, showing that it was more than your typical Disney kiddie matinee movie. It had brilliant acting, and a great message for girls: the guy doesn't have to literally be Prince Charming to be your prince. It's kinda like the antidote for all the Disney animated classics; you're not going to find Prince Eric, or Prince Charming, or Prince Whatever-His-Name-Is from Sleeping Beauty in real life, and there are no fairy-tale endings. But finding a guy who loves you even though you come off as slightly crazy and like to break out in song in the middle of Central Park, and who is willing to fight the evils of the world for you, can give you a pretty good happy ever after. Oh, and sometimes the girl rescues the guy.

And today I add a new favorite: Coraline. I highly recommend, whether you have a kid to drag along or not, that you get yourself to a theater that's showing it in its full 3D glory and strap yourself in for the ride. It is, to use a movie review cliche, visually stunning. The 3D-ness doesn't feel gimmicky here like it does in a movie like Bolt because it's a stop-motion movie; the 3D effects aren't trying to make 2-dimensional animation look like it's 3-dimensional, it's simply showing off the fact that what's being filmed are, in fact, 3-dimensional sculptured works of art. It's a dark fable with quirky characters and a brave, smart heroine of a little girl who first gets herself into, then out of, grave danger. There are moments that border on horror, and the very young may get a little creeped out. But Ainsley didn't fidget for the entire hour and 40 minutes, and when it was over gave it the Ainsley seal of approval: a big open-mouth smile with her tongue hanging out. The message of this one is great, too, and it's summed up in the tagline on its poster: Be careful what you wish for. (I would also sum it as: The grass might be greener on the other side, but it might also be full of poison oak and spiders.)

Money is tight, and people's movie manners suck, and it's sometimes hard to justify putting down the equivalent of a tank (or 2, if you're taking kids) of gas to see a movie. But this one...for young and old alike, I think it just might be worth it. Forget the big-budget "adult" movies; I'd take a movie like Coraline over the latest smash-bang action flick any day of the week and twice on Sundays when you can get matinee pricing. Maybe this just shows I'm a mom; maybe, just maybe, it's because kids' movies are pushing the bar in a way more mature movies are afraid to do.

Jon Hamm + Buttercream Frosting = A Perfect Day

At the risk of jinxing it, let me just say that today is a good day.

It's cold, but the sun is shining. My assistant made me these treats that are chocolate cake on the bottom, marshmallow, peanut butter, Rice Crispies, and chocolate on the top (I stopped making these for myself even though she gave me the recipe because I have a tendency to eat the whole pan). The coffee I made this morning tastes awesome even though I made it from three different kinds of coffee, each of which had too small an amount in the bag to use on its own. And best of all, we have tomorrow off from school for a PD day and I already have all my hours in. So tonight I can sit back with a mochatini and watch 30 Rock and drool over guest star Jon Hamm and not worry about morning.

Ladies, you know who Jon Hamm is, right? I didn't really know who he was until he hosted SNL and I caught a few minutes of him there and thought, "I don't get this sketch about Mad Men but that guy is awfully cute." After reading countless articles about his work in the critically-acclaimed but too-little-seen drama Mad Men, I decided a few weeks ago that I need to see what all the fuss is about. I rented the first 3 episodes of the show, and it was love at first sight. Sure, the character Hamm plays is a chain-smoking borderline-alcoholic womanizing sexist mess of a man, but in a very adorable sort of way.

So with 30 Rock being my favoritest TV comedy and all, I literally squealed with delight when I learned that the very yummy Hamm would have a story arc as Liz's new love interest. And his character's first line in last week's episode has to be one of the best introductions a girl like me could hope for...

"I'm sorry I smell like frosting. I love to bake."

Squeeeee!

And as Liz says after that introduction...I want to go to there.

Here's what I will be doing at 9:30 tonight, the night I turn 35. I will be sitting under my Snuggie with a wedge of chocolate birthday cake with buttercream frosting watching Jon Hamm. It's the best way I can think of to celebrate my first day of middle age.

Anybody out there watch Mad Men? And share my new crush on Jon Hamm? And just because it's my birthday, humor me and go watch the above mentioned scene here and holler back with your thoughts on the awesomeness that is both 30 Rock and Jon Hamm.

18-34...No More

Today is my last day of youth.



Tomorrow I turn 35. Starting tomorrow, when I fill out surveys I will no longer be able to check the box next to "18--34." I'll now be checking the box that says "35--44." Though it might as well be saying "35--death."

Crossing into 35 means, demographically speaking, I am no longer "young." According to advertisers and network execs and the like I am no longer in that coveted group. I am now (gasp!) statistically middle-aged.

It's funny. I don't feel old. I feel quite young. Playful at times, even. I really feel like I am just now truly comfortable in my own skin. I just now am starting to figure things out: how to be a mom, how to balance work and home, how to stay healthy and happy. I am having quite a bit of fun in this current phase of my life. Isn't there some mid-life crisis and existential angst I should be going through or something if I truly were middle-aged?

I have a few more lines around my eyes than I used to. And I have to highlight my hair to cover the smattering of grays. But I don't look into the mirror and see a middle-aged person. (Except for after that killer stomach virus I had at Christmas. I looked like the Cryptkeeper after that thing.) I see me. That bright-eyed young college girl is still in there. She may look a little more worn at times, a little wiser, but she's still there. She still likes to toss back a few on a Saturday night, to dance to some goofy top-40 hit, to spend quality time with a video game. And she's not ready to be called middle-aged yet.

So I'm rebelling. I'm gonna mark that dang "18--34" box for a little longer. You're only as old as you feel, right? Well, I still feel like I'm in my 20s. I've got a lot of livin' to do. I am not yet ready to cave in to middle-age.

I'm young, damnit.

Ainsley Solves the Financial Crisis AND Global Warming

Seriously, I want my kid to go work for the government. I think she has some good ideas.

Jason and I have been, like probably 99.9 % of Americans, worrying out loud over the financial crap heap we're all in. After Obama's press conference last night, I couldn't sleep; Jason has had layoffs at his workplace, and my assistant was told yesterday that there might not be a job for her next year. I worry for her (though she's been told that nothing is definite yet) and selfishly for myself. The thought of running a library that services 1600 students and over 100 staff members and much of the technology needs of said students and staff without any clerical help made me want to throw up a little. After the press conference, I found myself fretting the economic catastrophe all night long and having nightmares about soup kitchens and bread lines. And I usually like soup and bread.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays Jason is home in the morning to help get Ains ready for school and he likes to have political news going in the background. This morning it got us talking about the sorry state of affairs in our own sorry state, about the cuts education is going to take and how angry that makes us as parents, and so on and so forth until my blood was running as hot as our morning Joe.

"I love everybody," Ainsley chimed in. This is something she throws out whenever she senses frustration and discord in the house that's not directly aimed at her; I guess it's how a six year old tries to change the topic.

"Well, what the world needs now is love, sweet love," I said. Without any trace of bitterness or irony. Of course. "Because it is the only thing there's just too little of. Oh, wait, except for money. And consumer confidence. And loans. And alternative energy sources."

Jason turned his sights on Ainsley.

"What do you think, Ains? Should the banks get more capital? Or should their toxic assets be purchased? Or do we just need more tax cuts?"

She thought for a minute.

"I think everybody should eat ice cream. Every day."

"Why?"

"Because it will make everyone happier. And if they're hot, it will make them cooler."

So there you have it. I plan on calling this the Cranky Stimulus Package, and I am putting it into action in my house immediately (once it is voted in by a two-thirds majority, of course. But I am pretty sure I have the votes. Though if Graeter's wants to lobby for it, I would not object.)

Cat People

The Cincinnati Zoo lost its renowned male cheetah last week.



For whatever reason, this wasn't on the local news until today. I don't know why not; it's not like we've had anything else newsworthy going on here in the Cincy area (snow, ice, some more snow.)



This was a beautiful animal and was my top reason for going to the zoo once every summer the last few years. A few times a week they put him in a special area and let him run up to top speed to show zoo visitors what the fastest land animal on earth can do. It was amazing; a nature show with a camera following the cheetah just doesn't capture its awesomeness like seeing the big cat run across an open expanse, leaving dust in its wake.



The story made me unrationally sad. It's been a big news week for animals in peril; yesterday both a horse and a dog fell through two different tri-state ponds' ice, and though both are now okay, it was hard to watch the footage. Ainsley and I found ourselves in front of the TV yesterday afternoon, both holding our breath, hoping that the horse up to its neck in icy water got pulled out in time. He did. But now I hear about Mora the cheetah, and I am more troubled than I should be.



I think it's a cat thing.



I am a sucker for a sad cat story. Just a couple of weeks ago, I found myself welling up during dinner when the local news covered not one, but two incredible accounts of feline survival. The first was of a family who had narrowly escaped their burning home who were mourning the presumed death of their new kitten in the fire. When one of the daughters went to the remains of the house to salvage some belongings she heard meowing. The baby kitty miraculously survived the fire and was under the rubble of one of the bedrooms. The second was of a beloved cat who was let out of a house by an overnight guest who didn't realize said kitty was supposed to stay indoors no matter how loudly it pawed at the door. The cat disappeared, but one year later was found back in the area and taken in by a foster mom who posted an ad about the cat. The original owner saw the ad, and cat and "mom" were reunited.



I've even blogged sad cat stories. I say all the time that I am an animal lover. But I think I need to be specific here, having never blogged about dogs, or birds, or turtles in crisis: I am a cat person.



I know that some of you are cat people, too. And some are dog people. And my sister is a bird person (for now; she changes animal allegiances the way some people change hairstyles.) I've seen debates between "dog people" and "cat people" become as heated as debates between democrats and republicans. I think there are some fundamental differences between those who favor the feline and those who favor the canine; it's a personality thing.



I may be completely stereotyping here. But here's what I've noticed about cat people:



We're kinda shy. We work hard when we need to, but we like being lazy. We're the type of people who, if a friend calls and says, "I've got free front row seats for a concert featuring this great up and coming band who are supposed to be the next big thing, and by the way, backstage passes, too, but we could just stay home and eat chocolate and wrap up in blankets and watch The Office tonight," would probably respond with, "Hey, that sounds cool...I mean, the staying home and watching The Office part." We have a small group of really close friends who we are intensely loyal to. Don't make us mad, though, even if you're in that beloved group; we hold grudges. To people outside of that small group we may seem aloof or indifferent, but more often than not, we are just big softies once you get to know us.



Dog people are a little more outgoing, a little more adventurous. Many of my grandest "adventures" have been initiated by the dog people in my life. At heart, my husband is a dog person even though we have never owned one together and instead were owned by a cat. Dog people are warm people who generally have a large group of friends and acquaintances; this is probably because many dog people genuinely like the company of other human beings and are a little more social. I think dog people are a little easier to read; you know where you stand with a dog person. If they love you, they'll show it. Tick one off, and she'll let you know. None of that passive-agressive grudge-holding cold-shoulder cat person bullcrap. I would bet money that Christian Bale is a dog person.

Dog people have probably already seen or read Marley and Me; we cat people are holding out for Dewey: The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World (starring Meryl Streep! Seriously!)


So, talk back. Are you a cat person or a dog person? And how badly did I get you wrong here?

Belated Gifts

Looking back, it was just like the scene from A Christmas Story.

We were at the table eating dinner when we heard a large truck come down the street. We stopped mid-bite, staring at each other from across the table. The truck stopped in front of the house, its rumbling engine still running.

"It's the UPS man," Jason whispered.

"Could it be..."

He left his chicken tortilla soup on the table to go down and retrieve the box. It did not have "Fra-jee-lay" marked on the side, but it could not have been more eagerly anticipated had it been a Major Award.

It was...Snuggies! Two of them! With "free" booklights! It only took them 8 weeks to get here, but better late than never.

Yes, my friends, I got a red Snuggie for Christmas. Just like I asked for. I don't even mind that it arrived closer to my birthday than to Christmas.

Jason was the first to try one on.

"Oh, honey," I said, my eyes filling with joyful tears. "You so look ready to hitch a ride on the comet and go back to the mother ship."

Ainsley was next, and after almost killing herself, we advised her to only wear it when fully seated. It's so long that when she tried travelling with it on she looked like Maggie Simpson walking inside her baby gown.

I actually have not tried it on yet. I need to wash them first; the "high-quality fleece" in reality is some synthetic fiber that harbors enough static electricity to make Ainsley's hair stand on end and perhaps power every light in our house. If fabric softener doesn't solve that little problem they're not going to be good for much other than shocking each other and showing Ainsley what a spark looks like.

It seems we got the Snuggies right on time. They are starting to make appearances at local stores in the "As Seen On TV" sections and one of our local news stations just did a story about them. I tell you, one of my highlights of 2009 so far was when the station cut back to the anchor desk and good ole Kit Andrews was nonchalantly sporting a Snuggie while the crew laughed in the background.

I don't know how long they'll last; when I put them into the washer this morning I noticed that there was already a rip at the sleave seam. And without the sleeves, the Snuggie really isn't a Snuggie.

One thing is for certain--with the snow falling, tonight will find me wrapped up in one, my arms free to perhaps hold a book, or a remote, or reach for a lamp. While you will be struggling with that old quilt or blanket, my cult, er, family and I will be both warm and unencumbered, able to move our arms any way we choose. Bwahahahaha!

So just how jealous are you? And just how badly do you want me to post pictures?

Why My Kid Will Not Be Watching Super Bowl Commercials

What's Cranky's favorite thing about the Super Bowl? The commercials, of course. Unless the Bengals are playing (stop laughing, it might happen again someday) I really have no interest in the actual game. As a TV addict, I really just love having carte blanche to eat really junky food and watch the much-aligned pop culture art form that is the modern television ad.

I usually let Ains watch until her bedtime. Sure, most of the ads are for beer and many feature mild T and A, but she doesn't halfway pay attention and I figure she's going to have to learn that much of non-Disney TV is full of smut, anyway.

But this year, I am censoring the commercials because apparently she's young and impressionable. Who knew?

Here's why I am worried. Last night, we were watching the show featuring the "best" Super Bowl commercials of all time. The cat herders, the talking shirt stain, the dalmation and the Clydesdale. You know, all the classics.

Then the Nationwide commercial came on that pokes fun of the short-lived fame of Kevin Federline. It starts off with K-Fed rapping and literally bathing in cash; then it shows him working a fry line. Life comes at you fast, indeed.

"I like that song," Ainsley said while Federline was rapping. Then her next words are the subject of some debate; I swear I heard her say, "He's a cutie." After my head stopped spinning, Jason told me she really told him that he was a cutie, which is her newest term of endearment and is generally reserved for her stuffed penguin and Zac Efron. Either way, she looked admiringly at K-Fed for 30 seconds, and that is simply unacceptable.

Then came the Bud commercial. I don't remember which one, because there were about 100 featured in that hour-long special. I think this one may have had a guy who was trying to woo a girl with Bud Light; I am sure that narrows it down considerably.

"I love beer," she said.

And that, my friends, is the evil power of advertising. If you can make a 6-year-old, who has never had a sip of alcohol pass her lips, love your product, then you have done your job. Well played, Budweiser. Well played.

Make sure you stop back after the game and tell Cranky which commercials you liked best this year. And whether or not they made you love beer and/or Kevin Federline.