Girl Detective

A few more ideas occurred to me that might make good gifts for the moms in your life.

Noise Reducing Headphones Not for walking out on the street, but oh, wouldn’t these be nice at home?

Nice Watch So Mom can take off the battered, bathproof Timex that keeps track of timeouts and falling-asleep intervals. My husband and I are fans of Nixon watches, which they sell locally at Lava Lounge.

Teapot and Loose-Leaf Tea Twin Cities treasure Tea Source ships! They carry single-person pots that hold enough water for about two and a half cups. The House Earl Grey is wonderful; I get raves every time I serve it. I also like their herbal tisanes (see their informative site to find out why herbal “teas” aren’t really tea). My longtime favorite is Evening in Missoula. I also like Starfire Licorice, Margaret’s Soother, and Earl Red.

During the hospital program I attended for post-partum depression and anxiety, we had two classes on relaxation with guided imagery. On my last day of the program we listened to a soothing CD whose narrator took us through the stages of relaxation. Toward the end, the narrator instructed us to imagine a beautiful gold box was sitting next to us, tied with a luxurious silk ribbon.

Wow, I thought, that reminds me a lot of the turning point in David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive. My mind started wandering in that direction; I drew it back to the sound of the narrator’s voice.

“Now imagine that you’re opening the box,” she said. “And what’s inside the box is whatever it is that you really, really want and need right now.”

What came to my mind at that instance? World peace? Personal peace? Patience? Health? Happiness?

No. I opened my imaginary box and found a John Hughes DVD box set. I burst out laughing, which I’m sure disturbed some of my more relaxed and meditative compatriots.

So, there we have it, folks. When given the choice of anything in the world, my relaxed meditative self said she wanted to watch 80’s teen dramedies. I’m not sure if this is humorous, pathetic, or both.

There are two(!) John Hughes DVD sets: Too Cool for School, which includes Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Some Kind of Wonderful, and Pretty in Pink; and The Brat Pack, with The Breakfast Club, Weird Science, and Sixteen Candles.

Did you think Mothers Day was invented by Hallmark? It’s been around for longer than that. Some research dates it back to Cybele (pronounced with a hard C, short Y and long E at the end: KIH-buh-Lee) worship in ancient Greece. The American version is largely based on a post-Civil War peace manifesto. The English version, Mothering Sunday, was reportedly begun so working class domestics could have at least one Sunday off a year to visit their mums, and so the mums could have off to receive the visits. Whatever the origin, though, there’s little disagreement that mothering is a tough gig, and few begrudge moms the day as tribute to that.

Some very good news for moms: the Mommy War is more a media invention than an accurate portrait of reality:

Most women today have to work: it’s the only way their families are going to be fed, housed and educated. A new college-educated generation takes it for granted that women will both work and care for their families — and that men must be an integral part of their children’s lives. It’s a generation that understands that stay-at-home moms and working mothers aren’t firmly opposing philosophical stances but the same women in different life phases, moving in and out of the part-time and full-time workforce for the few years while their children are young.

In this week leading up to Mothers Day in America, think about the mothers in your life. Not just your mom, or your spouse’s mom, but all the mothers: friends, siblings, co-workers, neighbors. Give a mom a break this week. If you hear a screaming kid and judgment flashes through your brain, offer help instead. And think of pretty, comforting things, big or small, that might make a mom’s day a bit brighter:

Card Papyrus carries, and Marcel Shurman makes, lovely ones.

Flowers I love yellow roses and dislike lilies. Do your loved one a favor. Ask what she likes, and avoid carnations, daisies, baby’s breath, and alstroemeria, unless specifially requested. Gerbera daisies are an exception.

Chocolate Twin Citian’s are fortunate to have both B.T. McElrath (I love the passionfruit and dark chocolate truffles) and Legacy Chocolates (Potion No. 9) readily available.

Accessories Little blue box or big orange box, brand recognition can be a lovely thing. I love the blue/green En Duo ribbon pattern.

Books I recently recommended Jill Murphy’s Five Minutes’ Peace and Kate Atkinson’s Behind the Scenes at the Museum. Both take wry looks at the mundane reality of mothering small children, though Atkinson’s book is both funny and tragic. For self-examination and spiritual growth, I recommend Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. Gift cards for www.amazon.com, Barnes and Noble, Border’s, or your local book shop are always good ideas.

Ice Cream Did you know that you can get Graeter’s ice cream shipped? Now you do. The chocolate chip flavors are stunning.

Ice Cream, Again Twin Citians, you’ve got a lot to love.

Fancy Dinner at the best restaurant in your city. Twin Citians, this is ours.

Music Fun and Booty-Shakin’ (Justin Timberlake’s FutureSex/Lovesounds), Local (new Low album!), Singer/Songwriter male (Rufus Wainwright’s Release the Stars), Singer/Songwriter female (Patti Griffin’s Children Running Through), Sophomore effort (Arctic Monkeys’ Favourite Worst Nightmare)

Movies Go out to a theater that serves good popcorn with real butter (Heights, Riverview, or GTI Roseville in the Twin Cities), or stay in and watch the vastly underrated Children of Men, Alfonso Cuaron’s chilling look at a future without mothers.

If you have other ideas, email me and I’ll post them, too.

My unexpected gift, today? That baby Guppy is still napping, which has allowed me the time I needed for this link-a-palooza.

And if you were bothered by my lack of apostrophe in Mothers Day, get over it. Apostrophes are one of the most misused and unnecessary pieces of punctuation. Here’s a long explanation of why I can leave them out. But do you get what I mean when I say Mothers Day? Then you see my point.

#29 in my 2007 movie challenge was A Better Way to Die, the oldest thing on my Tivo. My husband G. Grod refused to watch it again, but my visiting sister, Sydney, had not seen it. It’s set in our small hometown, and Scott Wiper, (whose current movie is getting creamed by the critics) was a classmate of our sister’s and the actor, writer, and director. A second viewing only confirmed the opinions I had the first time I saw ABWtD: Wiper can direct at a good clip, but his story and dialogue sometimes strain belief, and his acting and voice can’t carry the movie. Lou Diamond Phillips is unbelievable and stiff as a main character, and Natasha Henstridge is the requisite hot actress who does a love scene, then provides a motive for Wiper’s Boomer to get angry and vengeful. Sometimes it fairly crackled with humor, though. Joe Pantoliano stood out in a short amount of screentime, and Andre Braugher elevates this movie beyond mediocrity. A Better Way to Die has some sharp one liners, a fast pace, and crisp direction. It’s a decent B movie.

#28 in my 2007 movie challenge was director Gillies MacKinnon’s Regeneration, based on Pat Barker’s excellent historical novel of the same name, and released in the U.S. as Behind the Lines. Like many book adaptations, Regeneration’s reach exceeds its grasp. The movie unsuccessfully crams in too many elements of the book, and ends up doing justice to very few of them. As an illustration of the book, it is well cast. Jonathan Pryce is Capt. William Rivers, a pioneer in psychology. Jonny Lee Miller (an ex-husband of Angelina Jolie, and business partner of Ewan MacGregor and Jude Law) does a good job as Billy Prior, one of my favorite fictional characters, though the film glances over or omits many of his myriad complexities. Tanya Allen is sweet and sympathetic as his girlfriend Sarah. Many films have tried to capture the physical experience of combat; Regeneration excels as an exploration of the psychological effects of warfare. There are very good things here, but not enough of them for me to strongly recommend the film. The book, however, is one of my all-time favorites.

The first Saturday in May is Free Comic Book Day. Visit your local comic store to pick up a free comic book. Many have been created just for the day, so they’re not just 25 cent-ers. I plan on picking up Comics Festival! 2007, Whiteout, Nexus, and Owly. I highly recommend Whiteout and Nexus.

Find your local comic shop by visiting the Comic Shop Locator. Do not be afraid. The Simpsons guy is an exaggeration. Free Comic Book Day was created for comic book geeks (like me) and neophytes as well.

If you’re in the Twin Cities, visit the best comic shop, Big Brain Comics, on Washington Avenue by The Loft and Grumpy’s.

Reading, Discussion, & Book Signing with John Scalzi, who writes The Whatever and is a SF author on the rise*

Saturday, May 5, 2007
1:00pm

Uncle Hugo’s
2864 Chicago Avenue South
Minneapolis, MN 55407
(612) 824-6347

*Event in conjunction with author Tate Hallaway

#27 in my 2007 movie challenge would have been Batman Begins, but I couldn’t stay awake for the ending. (I was more impressed when I saw it in theater.) So #27 is The Lake House, or “Magic Mailbox,” as NYT film critic A.O. Scott quipped. Ebert and Roeper liked it when it came out last year, so in spite of the mixed reviews of others (unlike the guy in Metropolitan–which is an adaptation of Austen’s Mansfield Park; I didn’t know that!–I read reviews and read books/see movies) we decided to give it a try. I’m glad I did. This was a sweet romance. Bullock and Reeves inhabit the titular house at different points, but they share a dog and a mailbox that defy the space/time continuum. I was surprised at how decent this was, and that it didn’t suck. While those sound like faint praise, they’re not. There was a nice theme about Jane Austen’s Persuasion running through it, and while they didn’t get the parallel exactly right, it was pretty close. This was a gentle, heartening movie that was good at the end of a frazzling day. The weird things that bothered me? The actor who played Reeves’s brother, Ebon Moss-Bachrach, had a very strange hairline. And Keanu Reeves in a turtleneck sweater, or perhaps any man, for that matter? No. Just, no.

A member of my writing group arrived last night saying she’d suffered a week of serious doubt: was her manuscript ever going to be finished, would it amount to anything?, would it be published, what was the point of it all?

The rest of us laughed sympathetically; we’d been in that writing slump before, and we will be again.

Later, as we were chatting about the books we were reading (because reading is an integral part of writing; it’s the yin to the yang), the doubting writer noted that she’d recently finished two books by Margaret Atwood, who she’d not read before. After a long period of avoiding Oryx and Crake for her book group, because she didn’t like futuristic fantasy, she finally began it, and was swept away and won over. She followed that by picking up Atwood’s Blind Assassin.

Aha, I said, seeing the connection. “Did you have your writing crisis after reading Atwood?”

“Well, yes, I guess I did,” she said.

“I did the exact same thing after I finished Alias Grace,” I told her.

Atwood is like a goddess of writing. We mere mortals pale in comparison. We should instead admire and learn.

While I haven’t read either of the titles that my friend did, I highly recommend The Handmaid’s Tale, The Robber Bride, and especially Alias Grace. Cat’s Eye is an embarrassingly longtime denizen of my to-read shelf. To read excerpts of several Atwood books, visit The Daily Book Excerpt at The Sheila Variations.

I visited Pumphouse Creamery, at 48th and Chicago in Minneapolis, soon after it opened, when I was pregnant with Drake. None of the flavors at that time spoke to me. I asked the person behind the counter for a recommendation; he suggested strawberry. I had high hopes of the place, since one of the Twin Cities weird strengths is awesome ice cream with fabulous flavors. (Don’t believe me? I find your lack of faith disturbing; see below*.) Pumphouse, adjacent to longtime local treasure Turtle Bread Co., and using local, organic cream and ingredients, seemed like it would be a slam dunk.

I ate the strawberry ice cream in disappointed disbelief, and raged to my husband G. Grod, “How can this ice cream be disappointing? I love ice cream even when I’m NOT pregnant! It’s local! It’s organic! It’s fresh! What’s wrong?” I ignored Pumphouse for nearly four years in favor of other local ice cream parlors*.

Last night, though, I happened to be at Turtle Bread and decided to give Pumphouse another try. Oh, happy day! Not only did many of the flavors speak to me, but they fairly started an argument over which of them I should try. In the end, I chose a double of Lemon Curd and Blueberry Buttermilk over the Cookies and Cream made with one of my favorite food groups, Newman Os. I can’t speak for what I didn’t choose, but the double scoop was a delight. Sweet blueberry enlivened with the tang of buttermilk, contrasted with the tart, creamy richness of lemon curd.

YUM. Check out Pumphouse.

*My favorite Twin Cities Awesome Independent Ice Cream parlors, and some of my favorite flavors:

Crema Cafe (Cardamom/Black Pepper)
Sebastian Joe’s–this year’s City Pages Best Ice Cream Parlor (Pavarotti: Caramel, Banana and Chocolate; Raspberry Chocolate Chip)
Izzy’s (Oh, the adorable Izzy scoop; it makes choosing both easier and harder. And the Izzy Pops! Tiny scoops of different flavors dipped in B.T. McElrath dark chocolate and put on a stick–so Minnesotan!)
Adele’s Frozen Custard (not technically ice cream, but worth the trip)

#26 in my 2007 movie challenge, Shadow of a Doubt may well be the favorite Hitchcock movie of the sixteen* I’ve seen. It’s in black and white, and stars Teresa Wright as a small-town teenager whose uncle Charlie, for whom she is named, may be hiding something. Charlie is alerted to her uncle’s possible wrongdoings, and then goes all girl detective as she seeks, and fails, to prove his innocence. Joseph Cotten is appropriately creepy as the uncle, and veers scarily between animated interactions with young Charlie’s family, and monotone threats to himself, the detectives, and the newly clued-in young Charlie. Hitch gives the viewer a credible psychological backstory for Uncle C, as well as squirm-inducing scenes of Uncle C manhandling young C that imply far more than they show. The movie tells a good story with suspense, and Hitch hasn’t yet cemented his famous fetishes, like torturing pretty blonds, that were unpleasant hallmarks of his later films. What I noticed on this viewing was how masterfully Hitch ratcheted up the anxiety of the viewer using domestic commonplaces like a Martha-ish mom and bickering small children. It was strangely affirming to my current struggles with depression and anxiety to see the darker side of domesticity.

*The 39 Steps
The Lady Vanishes
Rebecca
Foreign Correspondent
Shadow of a Doubt
Spellbound
Notorious
Rope
Dial M for Murder
Rear Window
To Catch a Thief
Vertigo
North by Northwest
Psycho
The Birds
Marnie

I am a long-time fan of Ebert’s reviews, both written and on television. I started watching At the Movies when he was auditioning new partners for the late Gene Siskel’s chair. Sometime last year, Ebert went for cancer treatment, and has not yet returned. Here, he details why not.

I’ve continued to watch At the Movies with Richard Roeper while Ebert’s been gone. I’ve liked seeing Roeper grow as a critic over the years, at least in part because of working with Ebert. I don’t always agree with what they say, but I do respect their opinions. Roeper has had a rotating band of guest critics. Several have been quite good, like A.O. Scott from The New York Times and Lisa Schwarzbaum from Entertainment Weekly. I was both surprised and impressed with the critical insights from Aisha Tyler, Kevin Smith, and Jay Leno. Others have disappointed, like Fred Willard and John Mellencamp. Since Ebert still can’t talk, I don’t think he’ll be back soon. But Roeper’s doing a good job holding down the balcony, and I hope they can keep the good guests coming till Roger is better.

#25 in my 2007 movie challenge was Superman Returns, a good movie for geeks. The reviews when it came out were mixed, plus it clocked in at two and a half hours, so I skipped in in the theater. I’m very glad I watched it, though. Singer pulled off a very tricky thing. He made Superman Returns both an homage to, as well as a continuation of, Richard Donner’s Superman, The Movie. Brandon Routh does a credible job as Superman, and evokes Christopher Reeve so strongly that it was almost eerie. His fake blue contacts over his brown eyes (a look I find distracting) bothered me throughout the movie. Kate Bosworth did a decent job as Lois Lane, and was certainly attractive, but she has become a character for our time, trying to juggle motherhood and a high-powered career. It’s a striking difference from Margot Kidder’s ERA-era feminist Lois Lane.

When I cared for Drake prior to the arrival of baby Guppy, I did as many household tasks as possible when he was around, e.g., washing dishes. When he napped, I could then do the things only possible in his absence, e.g., writing. With the birth of Guppy early last year, everything changed. I had two people in my care whose needs often conflicted with the other’s, and both of theirs with mine. Naps were never simultaneous. For Drake they soon stopped entirely. Caring for two is harder, and allows for few or no breaks from roughly from 6 a.m. to 9 p.m., and tends to deviate more beyond the extremes than to the middle.

My husband G. Grod was out of town last weekend for a last-minute family affair. He and I arranged before he left to have help for me at the toughest time of day, bath and bedtime. While it was a huge relief to have someone there each night to tag in and out with reading, bathing, listening, and more, it was not enough. I was still exhausted at the end of each day. From Friday evening to Monday morning I hardly had time to myself. I called upon the memory of last weekend’s solitary retreat several times.

With two children, help is necessary but it’s not enough. For me to keep going, I need quiet time each day to write, to read, to think. This past weekend, and the contrast with the weekend before, have made that abundantly clear. Now I just have to figure out how to do it, as well as how to provide the opportunity for G. Grod to get short respites as well, and not have to worry if he needs to take a longer one, too.

#24 in my 2007 movie challenge.That Romeo + Juliet came out over ten years ago surprised me. It doesn’t seem that long ago that I saw this in the theater. This is a cheeky, flamboyant adaptation by Baz Luhrmann. Danes and DiCaprio are luminous as the titular couple, but of the two, only DiCaprio acts well enough to do more than look good. This has a slow start, but builds toward its tragic, inevitable conclusion. The play is the thing here–the interpretation, the music and the sets, not so much the acting. We purchased the recently released Music Edition DVD, and it was well worth the time to watch the extras. They increased our appreciation of this odd and outrageous interpretation.

I normally avoid internet quizzes, but I found this one, What American Accent Do You Have? intriguing in a Sherlock Holmes-y way. My results? Spot on:

What American accent do you have?
Created by Xavier on Memegen.net

Midland. The Midland (please don’t confuse with "Midwest") itself is the neutral zone between the North and South. But just because you have a Midland accent doesn’t mean you’re from there. Since it is considered a neutral, default, "non-regional" accent you could easily be from someplace without its own accent, like Florida, or a big city in the South like Dallas, Houston, or Atlanta.

Take this quiz now - it’s easy!

We’re going to start with "cot" and "caught." When you say those words do they sound the same or different?

Different Same Same, no wait I mean different, maybe, a little bit different…

#16 in my 2007 book challenge was Elizabeth Gilbert’s spiritual memoir Eat, Pray, Love. Gilbert is an engaging, believable narrator, and is direct about her own foibles, an essential ingredient to a good memoir. The book is by turns funny and sad as it details her bad divorce, worse rebound relationship, and the crushing depression that spurred her to plan a year abroad, with four months apiece in Italy, India, and Indonesia. I found the segment on India the most compelling. Throughout, her transformations–emotional, physical and spiritual–are related with clear and intelligent prose.

….when you sense a faint potentiality for happiness after such dark times you must grab onto the ankles of that happiness and not let go until it drags you face-first out of the dirt–this is not selfishness, but obligation. You were given life; it is your duty (and also your entitlement as a human being) to find something beautiful within life, no matter how slight. (115)

I have two small reservations about the book. One, Gilbert used male pronouns to refer to God; I would have preferred gender neutrality. Two, Gilbert relates that she was raised in a Christian church and chose to study and practice Eastern religion as an adult.

I think this is a little like growing up in one small state in the US, then saying the whole country is terrible, and moving to Japan. Christianity is not a monolith. Even the various sects are so complex that they vary by church, and by individuals within each church. There is a long and interesting history of physical practices, meditation, and even feminism, WITHIN the broad umbrella that is Christianity. One need not leave the country, or even one’s church or sect, to learn about and practice them.

I am by no means discounting the value of Gilbert’s spiritual choices. I loved reading about them, and they have given me much to think about; I highly recommend this book. But one need not go East in search of meaning and unexplored territory. As Gilbert herself notes in the book, there are many paths up the mountain.

#15 in my 2007 book challenge was Embroideries, another memoir by Satrapi about women’s life in Iran. This is a short but sad and entertaining book. She wrote it between the Persepolis volumes as a way of distancing herself from the many painful memories. This is a sexy, frank portrayal of a women’s tea-time get together. They discuss sex, marriage and divorce. As with the Persepolis volumes, Satrapi does a wonderful job conveying difference while also noting common truths. I enjoyed it at least as much as I did when I read it last year.

#14 in my 2007 book challenge was the second part of Marjane Satrapi’s graphic-novel memoir, Persepolis 2. It is aptly titled, because it’s more like the second chapter in Satrapi’s memoirs than a different book from Persepolis. Again, the stark black and white art is used to good effect to convey complex emotions and events. Satrapi ably manages to make herself sympathetic in spite of being a somewhat spoiled and selfish teenager; she communicates a believable portrait of herself that is not too flattering or too self-deprecating. This segment follows the author out of Iran to Europe for school, then back again, and finally away again. Her story effectively shows the push/pull of family and place and the counterbalances of curiosity and individual growth. This is the second time I’ve read the book, and it is a rich reading experience, as before.

Sometimes Bunty feels as if the whole world is trying to climb on her body. (17)

Bunty….is irritated….(does she actually possess any other emotion?)…., disguising her thoughts with a bright artificial smile….Bunty maintains a Madonna-like expression of serenity and silence for as long as she can before her impatience suddenly boils over and she yanks the bars of [Gillian's] tricycle to hurry it along….

Is this a good mother? (19-20), Behind the Scenes at the Museum

A good mother? Maybe not. But a flawed, normal human that I can empathize with? Yes, yes, yes.

Poor Bunty, the main character’s mother in Kate Atkinson’s Behind the Scenes at the Museum. She was abandoned by a fiance, married to a pet-shop owner who has a series of affairs, and gives birth to a gaggle of girls for whom she feels scant connection. This might seem unempathizable, until we learn about the dearth of affection Bunty received from her own mother.

Nearly every day I fight the urge to shake off one or the other of my sons, as they cling like barnacles to my legs and cry out for affection beyond what I’ve given already, and beyond what I feel I possess. Just yesterday, I took 3yo Drake out to the sidewalk to ride his tricycle. I was quickly frustrated because he didn’t want to ride it; he just pushed it back and forth. To complicate matters, 1yo Guppy also wanted to push it, so several screaming fights ensued. I’m happy to say my screams weren’t part of the chorus, though they did clamor rather loudly in my head to be let out.

I frequently berate myself that I SHOULD be playing with the children, and that I SHOULDN’T have expectations of how that play should go. One part of me, the Bunty-self, can’t believe that riding a tricycle is so fracking difficult, and wonders why Guppy can’t be distracted by bubbles, and why he insists on spilling bubble juice over my lap, and trying to drink it from the bottle. Another part, the person who is trying to be a good mother (and yet who feels the sting of consistent failure), says that my kids are doing what kids do, interested in what they’re interested in, and ready when they are, not when I want them to be. Yet another part reminds me that my kids are clothed, fed, safe, healthy, learning, and mostly happy. I can’t be failing if all these are true.

So me as mother is a messy amalgam of all these parts. Perhaps I can be as compassionate to myself as I am to the character of Bunty.