Girl Detective

Top American designer Michael Kors shared a dozen pieces of style advice in “Secrets of Style for Right Now” from the April Issue of In Style magazine. It avoids the “r” word for the economy, but subtly advocates versatility and common sense for shopping in hard times. Tips include: Buy clothes that can be worn throughout the year. Beware indulgence on trends. Instead, focus on the best basics you can afford. If you splurge, do it on a sure thing like a great trench coat, or a fabulous item like gorgeous sandals that won’t get dated. Link to full text of article is from The Butlers Front Porch. If you’re able, try to get your hands on the magazine for the real article. The Kors items used to illustrate the points are striking and lovely.

April’s In Style magazine has “Ten Ways to Wake Up Beautiful“, a surprisingly simple list of tips to wake looking and feeling better. For example: Wash your face early in the evening, rather than later. Sleep on your back, with your head elevated. Have more protein and fewer carbs at dinner. The article includes brief explanations and the complete list, and falls into the “can’t hurt/might help/why not?” category for me. (Link at MSN Lifestyle)

The season of Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles has ended and the new film, Terminator Salvation opens on May 21, 2009. It felt like a good time to revisit the original films starting with The Terminator. The now-Governor is perfectly cast in a role where he has to look big, say few things, and not express emotion. The details of 1984 are accurate, but painful. The permed and feathered hair, the bad fashion, the flashing lights and electronic music. The look is dated, but that fits in a movie about a guy from the future who comes back to save a girl from the past. And the less said about the special effects, the better. They were good at the time.

Michael Biehn as Kyle Reese was much more skinny and effete than I recalled. I can see why they cast Jonathan Jackson in his part in the TV series. There’s a strong resemblance. I was extremely impressed when I noted how much of the material from the original had been skillfully woven into the TV series, like Sarah’s anecdotes from when she was a waitress. Even the bad movie soundtrack has some motifs that the current music echoes.

The movie, though, stands up. It’s suspenseful, creepy and involving. We care about Kyle and Sarah, and want Sarah to escape. I look forward to watching Terminator 2, which I picked up yesterday in a fruitful stop at Half Price Books. And I continue to hope that Fox shows some smarts and renews both Terminator and Dollhouse, both of which look promising if they’re given a chance to develop.

I agree with many viewers that Joss Whedon’s Dollhouse is getting better as it goes, and hope Fox has the sense to renew both it and Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. I think they make a great Friday double feature, especially now that Battlestar Galactica is over (sniff) and when they’re on, they’re on.

In general, I think the best Dollhouse eps have been the ones that focus on the mythology, and not just Echo.

I have some questions about last night’s episode “Briar Rose”, and since Sepinwall hasn’t posted yet, I’m squirming with impatience to wonder online about them. Don’t read on if you haven’t yet seen it, though I’ll try to be vague.

I found my new hair stylist the best way–by asking a woman whose hair I admired who her stylist was. The new stylist told me another of her curly-haired clients recommended Curly Girl by Lorraine Massey, and had come in after reading it with her hair looking fabulous.

If you are even vaguely curly, there’s a lot to like about this book. It’s put together in a chatty, informational way. Testimonials from women who’ve learned to love their curls, after a lifetime of trying to tame them. Massey is a curly girl herself, who’s done the research to find the best way of caring for it, and there are some surprising recommendations. Most curly girls can skip shampoo, cleansing their hair through scalp massage with conditioner. Brushes are out, too. Massey’s tips and techniques are going to take some practice, and getting used to, but I’m already loving the increased curl and definition in my hair, as well as the ideas on putting it up and tying it back. I was a little too zealous, though, when I purged our house of shampoo. I kept some for the kids, but gave away one of mine that G. Grod used too. He was not amused.

When I tried to find this book at the library, it was not yet back on the shelves. I asked one of the librarians for help. I was a little abashed when I told her the title and that it was a teen beauty book. She found it, and smiled when she handed it to me. “I own this. It’s good,” she said, as I noted her salt and pepper curls pulled back prettily from her face. While the book may be shelved in the teen section, curly girls know no age boundaries.

Our family recently returned from a trip to Miami FL with my parents and sisters’ families. It was 5yo Drake and 3yo Guppy’s first trip to that state. The hotel property we stayed at had a giant pool area, with a zero-depth entry, giant slide and a little jacuzzi pool.

Our first day at the pool, Drake wanted to go down the slide. It was high, curved, and encased in rock. We couldn’t see the top from the bottom, and vice versa. I went with him, because the pool it ended in was 4′, over Drake’s head, and he doesn’t yet swim. We went down it the first couple times together. The next couple times I met him at the bottom and swam him to the shallow water. Then he ran up the stairs calling, “Let’s go down together again, Mom!”

I walked up the steps to the top of the slide. He was gone. A mom in front of me said, “He should wait till he hears the signal beep to go down.” I can’t remember if I even heard the last of her sentence as I turned to race down the steps, and dive into the pool where Drake was struggling under the slide. There wasn’t a lifeguard; it was swim at your own risk. Or that of your impulsive 5yo, in our case. The handful of other parents around the pool were just realizing something was wrong as I dove in and pushed him up and out of the water. He had swallowed some, but not aspirated it, and might have been more angry than scared. He screamed for a long time, as the other parents stopped by to offer sympathy and make sure he was OK. Drake eventually stopped screaming and we went down a few more times, always being very clear that he wait for me at the top or make sure I was waiting at the bottom, plus not rush down the slide too soon after the kid in front of him.

Within the hour I was taking a break and my mom was watching Drake and Guppy play on the steps of the jacuzzi pool. Guppy threw a ball in the water. Drake lunged after it, unaware that the water was over his head. My mom waded in to fish him out. Drowning #2 averted.

About this time we’d had enough and returned to our room. Drake and Guppy still had some energy to burn, so were racing around the space, which had a sliding glass door to the patio. G. Grod said “Stop running,” just as Drake ran full-speed into the glass window. Screaming. More screaming. A little more screaming, and some frozen peas on the huge goose egg that erupted on his forehead, and was so bruised that it eventually leaked internally down his face, giving him two black eyes.

My sister Sydney came to babysit then, and took good care of the injured daredevil. G. Grod and I beat a hasty exit for a noisy, but by comparison positively relaxing dinner out. No further disasters ensued. Apparently Drake just needed to get them all out of his system on the first day.

I recently returned from a week in Miami, FL. I was careful and wore sunscreen, hat, protective clothing, sunglasses, etc. Even so, I got a mild sunburn on the back of my legs where I missed some areas. Even so, I thought I did well for being a week in the sun.

Then I got back to MN, went to a party in the park on Saturday, and sunburned my nose, which is now peeling.

Miami sun: nearly nothin’. Minnesota: lobster nose, then snake nose. Nice.

From The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon:

Once, in my father’s bookshop I heard a regular customer say that few things leave a deeper mark on a reader than the first book that finds its way into [their] heart. Those first images, the echo of words we think we have left behind, accompany us throughout our lives and sculpt a palace in our memory to which, sooner or later–no matter how many books we read, how many worlds we discover, or how much we learn or forget–we will return.

I am feverishly trying to finish The Shadow of the Wind in time for my book group tomorrow. My reading has slowed considerably, as my time on Facebook playing Lexulous has risen. Coincidence? I think not. But at least both are about love of words and learning.

I think what the quote implies is that there is some book that is each person’s first love, with that same devastating impact, no matter how many others come later. If I _had_ to pick _one_ (yanno–gun to the head) I think it would have to be Trixie Belden and the Secret of the Mansion, thankfully back in print after being MIA for many years. Hardly high lit, but the Trixie Belden series was so influential that it’s echoed here in the blog’s title and ethos decades later.

NB: I did not pick a fancy-schmancy award winning book, or geek-cred choice. I went back as far as I can remember, and picked one. Book-snobby comments about Gatsby, long lists, claims of how you fell in love when you started to read at age two, or some such will be disbelieved and mocked appropriately.

These shows make me laugh:

How I Met Your Mother
Better Off Ted
30 Rock
The Office (US)
Parks and Recreation

And at the end of a long day, I really appreciate that. I’m still laughing days later at Liz Lemon wrapped in a Slanket singing “Workin’ on my night cheese…”

Check them out if you haven’t, and give them more than one episode, too. The new ones, Ted and Parks, are still getting their legs, but look quite promising.

For those of you who miss At the Movies with Ebert and Roeper, Rotten Tomatoes now has a pretty good, pretty entertaining and informative movie show. (Announcement and link to show at Current.com)

Once upon a time, I was a show-going fan of the Grateful Dead. My then-boyfriend was a Deadhead who introduced me to the music and the culture. We played “name that singer” listening to tapes on the way to the stadium. Was it a Bobby song? Jerry? Or a trick question–the rare Phil tune, and the thankfully even rarer tunes by whichever poor keyboard player hadn’t yet exploded?

One of my favorite parts of the scene, though, was the parking lot. Before and after the show, people tailgated, and sold wares from the back of their cars and trucks. Sure, there were drugs and alcohol around. I was more interested in the other stuff: T-shirts with beautiful designs and lyrics, bootleg tapes of classic shows, beaded jewelry (I once bought a lavender ankle bracelet with bells), and food.

Once, after a show at Buckeye Lake, we made our way through the parking lot. I was sweaty and thirsty from dancing; the shows lasted at least two hours. I was also very hungry, and thrilled when a girl in a swirly dress wandered by calling, “Bagels! Veggie bagels! Cruelty-free, love-filled bagels!” I remember that bagel as one of the best foodstuffs I’ve ever eaten. Whole wheat, with cream cheese, dill, cucumber, fresh tomato, salt and just a few thinly sliced red onions. It was heavenly.

I just tried to recreate the dish. I didn’t have tomatoes, and I skipped the red onion. It was tasty, but lacked a little something. Perhaps it was the joy and the camaraderie of the parking lot.

My husband G. Grod, 5yo son Drake, 3yo son Guppy, and I just returned from a week in Miami with my family. We had a good time, and did a lot of fun things. But it was very different from my expectations beforehand.

Here’s what I thought I would do on vacation:

What I actually did:

So, mostly good. As usual, G. and I wished for even more downtime grown-up time. Lessons learned: Boys need to learn to swim. Be more even more careful about sunscreen. And adjust expectations and pack lighter for things like books and movies.

After weeks of drowning in unread posts at other sites and blogs, I am DONE! Caught up! Whew!

I had fun doing it. I have whittled down the sites I follow to those that entertain, inform and/or educate me. The volume of unread material was daunting, but reading it was still a joy.

I didn’t get the Google Reader magic message, “You have no unread items,” though, since I still have some Sepinwall reviews of episodes I haven’t watched of Parks and Recreation, 30 Rock, Dollhouse and Breaking Bad.

But watching those shows, and reading their reviews, and trying to keep up and not get so weeded again with my online reading? Those are all to be done some other day.

I purchased Christie Mellor’s Three-Martini Family Vacation in advance of our first full-on family trip. I haven’t yet read her previous one, The Three-Martini Playdate, though many of my parent friends have recommended it. I found this a funny, refreshing, if sometimes guilt-inducing, tonic to the current culture of over-parenting. I read it in the car to and from the beach in lieu of entertaining my kids in the backseat. I presumed, correctly, they could manage a 30 to 60 minute drive.

Trust me, there is never going to be the “perfect time” to go on a vacation, and if you wait for the ideal moment, you will be old and gray, and too finicky to want to travel anywhere you can’t have your shredded wheat and regular “programs.” Do not wait. Go now.

Traveling with children in tow can be challenging, but so can traveling with anybody who doesn’t want to do exactly what you want to do exactly when you want to do it. It’s annoying, but there you are. You could put a rucksack over your shoulder and abscond in the dead of night, leaving your broken-hearted family to pick up the shattered remnants of their lives without their mommy or daddy, or you could give it a try, and discover that “traveling” and “with children” don’t have to be mutually exclusive.

A few of her key points:

Teach your kids manners, self sufficiency and to be considerate of others as soon as they’re able. You, they, and others will all appreciate it in the long run.

Avoid places full of children, as they tend to be noisy, active, intrusive, and lack the manners mentioned above.

Three-martini parenting isn’t about ignoring your kids. It’s about finding balance between grownup time and kid time. Play with and attend to your kids. Within reason.

As much as possible, eschew social pressure. Remember the best vacations can be simple, cheap and even local.

This is a book one shouldn’t judge till one’s read it. It’s supposed to be humorous and tongue-in-cheek–one of its points is to lighten up. Consider it as a girlfriend’s take-it-or-leave-it advice. Mellor doesn’t pretend or claim to be an expert. She’s just another parent in the trenches, who’s been there and done that.

At Lianablog, she creates a formula to make your own NPR name. I have to jigger things around a bit to incorporate my middle initial into my first name, but it DOES work. As for the smallest foreign town I’ve visited, I’ll have to pull out an atlas. (Link from The Morning News)

Ooh, I think I’ve got the last name: Saffron Walden.

At Wired, Neil Gaiman, who does not actually live in Minneapolis, is interviewed about his “love letter” to Batman, while the monthly books go on hiatus and DC “reboots” the character and comics. He’s also got interesting stuff to say about comics made into movies. (Link from The Morning News)

It’s been over three weeks, and I’m still reading Peter Matthiessen’s nearly 900-page Shadow Country, winner of the 2008 National Book Award. The long book is worth the read, but was slow for me to get into because of a huge panoply of characters–I stopped about page 60, went back to the beginning, and kept a character list.

Shadow Country is historical fiction, taking on the myriad legends surrounding southwest Florida pioneer Edgar Watson. About 30 years ago, Matthiessen submitted a 1500+ page manuscript to his publisher. They said it was too big, so the whole was carved, apparently inelegantly, into three parts: Killing Mr. Watson, Lost Man’s River, and Bone by Bone. Matthiessen merged the three, then edited to create this new version and complete tale, Shadow Country. I see it as Matthiessen’s “director’s cut.”

It’s a dark, complex, fascinating book about a similarly dark, complex, fascinating character. I can see why Matthiessen has spent his life wrestling with the life and legends of Watson. But I hope to find my way out into the literary sunshine again soon.

Here in Minnesota, we almost have a new senator. Fingers crossed that they can get this resolved within six months of election day.

At The Chronicle of Higher Ed, Geoffrey K. Pullum declines to celebrate the 50th anniversary of Strunk and White’s Elements of Style:

The book’s toxic mix of purism, atavism, and personal eccentricity is not underpinned by a proper grounding in English grammar. It is often so misguided that the authors appear not to notice their own egregious flouting of its own rules. They can’t help it, because they don’t know how to identify what they condemn.

I never quite “got” The Elements of Style. I was amused by its cranky-old-man tone, but still couldn’t fathom much difference between “that” and “which” except “which” is used after a comma and “that” is not. (Link from Blog of a Bookslut)

In “Neo-Neo Realism“, from a recent New York Times Magazine, film critic A.O. Scott resists the easy answer of escapism, for what audiences want in films:

what if, at least some of the time, we feel an urge to escape from escapism? For most of the past decade, magical thinking has been elevated from a diversion to an ideological principle. The benign faith that dreams will come true can be hard to distinguish from the more sinister seduction of believing in lies. To counter the tyranny of fantasy entrenched on Wall Street and in Washington as well as in Hollywood, it seems possible that engagement with the world as it is might reassert itself as an aesthetic strategy. Perhaps it would be worth considering that what we need from movies, in the face of a dismaying and confusing real world, is realism.

He notes that the ancestor of this new new wave of realism is The Bicycle Thief, so anti-escapism isn’t really new. But he offers a number of films in example–Wendy and Lucy, Sugar, Chop Shop, and more–that honor the audience by offering up real characters and not dumbing things down. Meanwhile, they manage the surprising, true-to-life feat of ending on notes of quiet hope, even in the face of tragedy and difficulty.

Scott’s analysis is intelligent and stirring. Suddenly, and as if I needed it, I’ve got a lot more movies I’d like to see. And a lot more little ones that I’m going to have to hunt for in theaters, as these little quiet movies don’t get a lot of screens.

I’m just wondering what comes after the new-new realism? The Grateful Dead song, “New Minglewood Blues”, became “New New Minglewood Blues” then “All New Minglewood Blues”. Will we see an all new realism sometime in the future?

We bought our house a little over four years ago from a couple with two little kids, about eight and five. We noticed the five-foot chain link fence around the yard, and the padlocks they left for them and thought, huh.

Drake was just over a year old, and I wondered if I’d eventually need to lock him into the yard. Sure enough, last summer he made several breaks for freedom, a few times enticing little brother Guppy down the block. We brought out the padlocks. They screamed. They wailed. But they stayed in the yard.

During a recent thaw, Drake and friends were playing outside, then Drake entered the house from the front door, not the back, and barefoot.

“Weren’t you in the back?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I took off my boots, threw them over the fence, then climbed over.”

I looked out and saw his boots on the ground in front of the fence. So much for security and padlocks. I think he’s picked up a few things at circus school. I can only hope Guppy, who is a solid citizen with a low center of gravity, will remain earthbound a little while longer, and not follow his brother over the fence.