Girl Detective

This Gun for Hire was the first show in Take-Up Productions‘ new film series, “From The Vaults of Universal: Seven Classic Film Noirs”, on Mondays in February and March 2009 at the Heights Theater in Minneapolis. It starred Veronica Lake, in her famous side-parted -do, and introduced Alad Ladd as hitman Raven, who utterly stole the film.

Willard Gates: Raven… how do you feel when you’re doing [indicates murder headlines]…this?
Philip Raven: I feel fine.

From the screenplay by Graham Greene, Raven is in trouble after he’s paid for a hit in marked bills. Not only are the police after him, but so is the man who double-crossed him. Lake becomes involved in the complicated case that involves chemical weapons, spies, blackmail and murder. The plot is much less important than the look, performances, and atmosphere, which melt into a powerful whole.

The noir formula is turned on its head; Ladd is more of an homme fatale, while Lake is the innocent drawn in by her attraction to him. Ladd is best in the first half of the film, when he is inscrutable and unpredictable. Toward the end, his character explains his history, and I found the end manipulatively redemptive.

Next Monday is a double feature, Criss Cross and The Killers. The shows start at 7:30pm, but get there early. The Heights was nearly filled on Monday night, and the shows might sell out. Also, be sure to leave time and money for the Heights’ excellent popcorn, which you can get with real butter.

With Doubt, I saw four Oscar-nominated performances in one film: Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Meryl Streep, Amy Adams and Viola Davis, the latter two for Best Supporting Actress.

Doubt is a “did he or didn’t he” tale of Hoffman’s priest in 1955, pre-Vatican II Brooklyn. Streep is the righteous nun, Adams a naive new nun, and Davis a student’s mother. The characters are drawn well and all are sympathetic, though some are also suspicious. Hoffman is good, but he never made my heart rend, as both Sean Penn in Milk and Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler did. Streep’s performance, though, is blazing. Adams is consistently strong in her many scenes; she’s really the main character, I think. But Davis is so jaw-droppingly powerful (and definitely heart rending) in her brief time on screen that I can see why she’s a favorite.

A good film, with great performances. It poses tough questions, then respects the viewer enough to leave them unanswered.

My husband G. Grod’s birthday is today. He was only 23 when we started dating, and met my family a few months later when he came with me to my sister’s wedding, which took place on his 24th birthday. He was an excellent date for the wedding–a helpful and calming presence in the midst of my even-more-tightly-wound-than-usual family. My family and I discussed doing something at the wedding to recognize his birthday–a toast, a dance, anything. Then the wedding happened, and we totally forgot.

We forgot his birthday.

Thank goodness for friends Buffy and Ace, who did celebratory shots with him during the bride and groom’s first dance. The next day, he was very gracious about us having forgotten.

That was thirteen years ago. We continued to date, got engaged, married, moved to Minnesota, and had 2 boys, 5yo Drake and 3yo Guppy. We’ve done pretty well, I think. Perhaps in part because I’ve never forgotten his birthday since.

February is a big month in our family. My husband G. Grod and usually pick a date somewhere in the middle to celebrate his birthday, my birthday and Valentine’s Day. This year we went to neighborhood gem Restaurant Alma.

Alma has been doing what more and more restaurants finally came around to doing, which is focus on local, sustainable, seasonal foods. It has a small but flexible menu that changes seasonally. You can do a $45 prix fixe for three courses (salad, first and second), or order a la carte.

I started with the bitter greens; G. Grod had the prosciutto. Next I had the beet and farro risotto. For entrees, I chose the arctic char, which was perfectly cooked, and in a lovely winter preparation with potatoes and hollandaise. G. got the duck two ways, both of which were scruptious. For dessert, he had the milk chocolate roulade and I chose the oatmeal stout gingerbread cake.

Each dish was beautifully plated, with an amount of food that left us full but not stuffed. The service was friendly, attentive and helpful. The dishes themselves were a marvelous mix of complementary taste and texture. Alma is a splurge for us, so we don’t go often. But we’ve gone periodically through the years since it opened, and we’ve had lovely meals every time. I appreciate its proximity, food focus, quality AND consistency.

Hailed by many critics as one of the best books of 2008, The Story of Edgar Sawtelle fit nicely into my informal self-teaching Shakespeare unit that began in earnest last year, and shows no sign of stopping. (Kinda like that last sentence. Heh.) I was disappointed when it didn’t earn a slot at The Morning News 2009 Tournament of Books, but decided to read it anyway. I’ll compare it when I do read those candidates. Like the Oscars, sometimes the best works don’t get nominated.

Edgar is a mute boy whose parents own a small dog-raising farm in Wisconsin. His story closely follows Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Edgar is named for his father, who is married to Trudy, and has a ne’er-do-well brother, Claude. Wroblewski departs from a strict homage,though, because the dog farm is more than a metaphor for a kingdom; the dogs are characters in themselves, and some of the most complex, loveliest-drawn I’ve read. Though her passages were few, Edgar’s companion Almondine had some of the most insightful and touching chapters in the book.

Yet he was gone. She knew it most keenly in the diminishment of her own self. In her life, she’d been nourished and sustained by certain things, him being one of them, Trudy another, and Edgar, the third and mot important, but it was really the three of them together, intersecting in her, for each of them powered her heart a different way. (195)

While the book closely follows the events of the play, it’s the character of Edgar, so much more sympathetic than that of Hamlet, and the details of the dog training and personalities that make this book stand on its own, not just as an homage. I was struck by the many similarities between raising dogs and raising boys:

She didn’t think that the lessons of dog training always transferred to people, but it was just the nature of things that if you punished anyone, dog or boy, when they got close to a thing, they’d get it in their head the thing was bad. She’d seen people ruin dogs too many times by forcing them to repeat a trial that scared the dog or even hurt it. Not finding a variation on the same task, not coming at things from a different angle, not making the dog relish whatever it was that had to be done, was a failure of the imagination. (298)

Edgar and his story challenged me to think of some of the events in Hamlet in different ways. More important, and less tangible, was how engaged I was with the book. I’d be doing errands, or away from the house, and I would miss the book. I’d wonder what the people and dogs were doing within the covers. It’s not often a book so inveigles itself into my life.

Oh, how bitter I used to be about Valentine’s Day! Less bitter than I was in the old days, I’ve learned not to wait for someone else to give me what I want or need. It’s important to have pretty, delicious things in life, otherwise we STAY bitter, I think.

Here are a few links to neat items for you, a loved one, or a mom you know, for Valentine’s Day, any other occasion, or to create your own:

Rogue Chocolatier chocolates: Artisan chocolates created from bean to bar in micro-batches in NE Minneapolis. On sale at local shops such as Surdyk’s.

Chocolat Celeste: Truly beautiful chocolates crafted in St. Paul, MN.

Legacy Chocolates: Treasures from neighboring Wisconsin. Try their Potion 9 chocolate sauce over Sonny’s vanilla ice cream. Divine.

B.T. McElrath chocolates: I can’t pick one flavor to recommend: passionfruit, cinnamon/star anise, green tea, dark chocolate truffles. All are eye-rollingly good.

Pretty flowers. No need to buy for Valentine’s Day, when it will cost extra. When you do though, skip the cheap stuff: mums, daisies, carnations, baby’s breath, ferns. Go for just a few beautiful striking blooms, instead.

Bags! I’m going to venture outside of the Twin Cities and recommend Queen Bee Creations in Seattle, carried by Dabble in NE Minneapolis, among other stores. Super cute, well-made non-leather bags, wallets and accessories. Bonus, they just created stylish bike panniers that also have a strap for shoulder carrying!

Local jewelry! Northeast’s Dabble also carries a good selection of locally crafted jewelry, like the lovely, affordable items from Gazelle Beads that I can’t stop buying as gifts.

Shoes! I don’t know anyone who’d turn down a new pair of shoes. Something fancy and impractical, like strappy designer heels from Nordstrom Rack. Or warm, stylish boots to perk up the tail end of winter from Red Wing boots in Minnesota.

Use your imagination. No need to go for broke, especially in this economy; often the lovely little gifts are remembered most.

In the New York Times, Perri Klass on when to keep a sick kid home.

What do we know about the common cold, and about how it is transmitted? Just how infectious is that child whose cough hangs on for weeks? And how about the one with the drippy nose?

My friend Kitty is vindicated, as she said the same thing in the comments for my post on Wellness Remedies.

Also from the New York Times, if you do get a cold, don’t blow your nose. Yes, really.

As part of my pre-Oscar movie-watching binge, I saw Sam Mendes’ Revolutionary Road. Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio play a young couple who meet cute in the 50’s, get pregnant, move to the suburbs, and take on the trappings of a conventional life. As they struggle against the constraints of expectations–theirs and everybody else’s–they become ever more desperate and unhappy. This is an emotionally brutal film, but one full of truths about marriage and society that still resonate today.

Winslet is wonderful, DiCaprio slightly less so. Michael Shannon, nominated for a Best-Supporting Actor, is disturbingly sharp as the mentally ill son of a friend. Sometimes, though, I became aware of the swelling music, or the actor’s intensity felt a little too “look at me; I’m acting!” Overall, however, a provocative and well done film, with beautiful images and strong performances.

As per my new movie/book plan (which I noted here), I’ll try to read the Richard Yates novel this year now that I’ve seen the film. Reading books before the film wreaks havoc with my reading schedule, and nearly always spoils the film. I’m interested to see if I agree or not with Nick Schager’s Slant review about the film, which says it’s superficially faithful, but ultimately misses the point.

Trivia: I spotted kid-friendly musician Dan Zanes as part of the swing band in a dive bar.

“Hear that hum?” my husband G. Grod asked before he left for work. “That’s the sump pump. It’s running continuously. I think it’s blocked. Probably not good.” He paused to shoulder his messenger bag. “Thanks for letting me vent my anxiety about that. I’m off to work.”

I picked up that anxiety right where he left it, as the hum droned on. I went outside to check the outtake pipe. Sure enough, the end of the pipe was frozen solid after yesterday’s thaw and last night’s freeze. I got a shovel, poured boiling water and salt on it, and managed to get the end clear. But the pump hummed on, trying so hard to get water out of our basement. I knew if something didn’t happen, the motor would give, or our basement would flood.

I checked the internet. I called my dad. Turns out the freeze probably went up a ways into the pipe, which was about eight feet long. One suggestion was to hook a hose to my hot water heater, put it out the window, and up the pipe, and move it up as the water melted. This worked, so I set about trying to warm the pipe in other ways, in and out of the house, donning and doffing my muddy boots, and braving the above-freezing but grey, windy and snizzling day. I heated water to boiling, but could only pour it on the pipe at either end–the middle was buried in dirt and ice. I tried a hair dryer on an extension cord, but that made hardly any difference in the wind. I chipped away at the mulch, dirt and ice first with a rake, then with a hand tool, then with a shovel, then with the edging tool. I made little progress through the layer of ice beneath. I also turned off the pump, to save the motor. I’d periodically plug it back in to see if things were clear.

After EIGHT HOURS of in and out, shoveling, ice chipping, water boiling, etc, the sump pumped, and then stopped. That silence was perhaps the happiest moment of my day.

My kids are prone to barfing. They’re not only susceptible to whatever stomach virus might be running around, but if they skip dinner (which they periodically do, in protest of my healthy, whole-food meals) their blood sugar drops so far that they throw up the first thing they eat in the morning.

After the latest virus visited now-3yo Guppy and 5yo Drake, I joked I was an expert at the barfing protocol. “What’s that?” someone asked. I learned what to do from the handbook my pediatrician gave at the first visit. Once I got the hang of it, I appreciated how effective it was–it limits the duration of the bout to about 6 or 8 hours. Those 6 to 8 hours are yucky ones, but much better than if they’d lasted 12 to 24, which is common when fluids and food are given too soon.

1. Wait ONE HOUR after vomiting before offering fluids. Sooner, and it will come right back up.

2. Start with small, frequent sips of clear liquids, no more than 1 ounce every 30 to 60 minutes. It’s tempting to give kids as much as they want; this will only lead to further vomiting. As hard as it is, limit the amount and speed of what they drink as best you can. I set a timer in the kitchen, so the kids can count down. It lessens (somewhat) the whining, pleading, and arguing. Give water, Pedialyte, Gatorade, white-grape juice, lemon-lime soda or ginger ale. Growing up, my parents would give us Jello water–one packet in twice the amount of water called for. Try to avoid things sweetened with high-fructose corn syrup, though, as it’s been shown to contain mercury.

3. Once vomiting has stopped for 3 or 4 hours, you can increase the amount of fluids.

4. After 8 hours, you may begin a bland diet: bananas, rice, applesauce, toast, crackers, clear soups. Continue to serve tummy friendly foods for 24 hours after last vomiting.

I can scarcely believe it. I’ve gone through all my comments back through December. For most, I’ve replied in the comments.

I’ve begun to close comments after 2 weeks, to cut down on spam. Let me know if this seems too short a window. I was thinking up to a month, perhaps.

I may take a comment/email amnesty for everything before that, and declare email bankruptcy and start from scratch.

At Salon, Rebecca Traister examines some recent women’s confessional articles in “Girlie Gross Out”, and wonders if it’s liberating or too much information:

Oversharing is in. And for a lot of people who are doing the sharing, or experiencing it, it’s not so much “too much information” as it is the next, necessary step in personal-is-political, enlightened honesty about the female body.

Traister doesn’t draw a conclusion, and I’m not sure there is one. I had an experience very similar to one of the several described in the article. I talked about it at the time, but rarely do anymore. It scared people, and that didn’t seem kind to do.

I’m reminded of the hubbub over breastfeeding photos on Facebook. I breastfed both my kids until they were at least a year old, often in public. But I always tried to be in a quiet place, and be discreet. It was something between my kid and me; I didn’t and don’t think it’s anyone else’s business. Yes, I fully support and encourage women to breastfeed in general, and their right to do so in public. Yet while I see how photographs of this support that right, they also bug me–they _are_ too much information. Mommy friends of mine breastfeed their kids around me all the time; that’s great. But they don’t deliberately solicit my attention to it, as do public photos, and the type of articles described at Salon.

My own conclusion then, if there is one, can be only about me. I try not to overshare about the messy bits, except to my OB/GYN. If somebody else does it, I appreciate that there are positive aspects, but part of me would also be fine if I didn’t know that. I support someone else’s desire and right to do it, but also my own right to be ambivalent, bothered by it, or avoid it.

Link from The Morning News.

At Men’s Health, “The 20 Worst Foods of 2009” (link from The Morning News.) What simultaneously entertained and horrified me was the comparisons in the commentary for each selection, like the appetizer that has as many calories as THIRTEEN Krispy Kreme doughnuts.

Susan Meddaugh’s Martha Speaks and its sequels became the basis for the current PBS Kids show–one of the better ones that’s more watchable for parents, in my opinion. Our family discovered the TV show first, then sought out the books from our library. Thus far, 5yo Drake and 3yo Guppy have enjoyed Martha Blah Blah, Martha Calling, though they don’t like Martha Walks the Dog, which has a mean, big dog. But we all enjoy Perfectly Martha, my favorite.

Martha is a dog who learns to speak English after she eats alphabet soup and the letters go to her brain. When a shifty man comes to town and promises dog owners he can train the pets to be perfect pups in a day, Martha is suspicious.

“Hmmmph!” Martha said to Skits. “Dogs are perfect already.”

Clever Martha figures out the scam, and goes about fixing things in her own talkative, assertive manner. She is a charming, capable heroine, and this book seems especially aimed at dog owners who love their pets, quirks and all. My sister Sydney would love it.

I can’t remember where I first came across a recommendation for Holly Keller’s Farfallina and Marcel, but it’s 3yo Guppy’s current favorite book. A caterpillar named Farfallina and a gosling named Marcel become friends, then are separated one day:

But one day Farfallina was not herself.

I’m not sick,” she told Marcel,

“just a little uncomfortable.

I need to climb up onto a branch and rest for a while.”

“I’ll wait for you,” Marcel called

as Farfallina made her way up the tree.

Marcel does wait, but as most parents know, Farfallina isn’t coming down immediately; there is a note at the beginning about metamorphosis. Marcel eventually gives up and returns to his pond. Farfallina wakes and looks for Marcel, but he is gone. The friends are sad at the loss, and don’t even recognize each other when they do meet again, though they eventually discover the truth.

Keller’s watercolors are simple and lovely, perfectly suited to this sweet, engaging tale of friendship that survives through change.

The New York Times had a recent article in its books section on number books for kids, and they highly recommended One Boy by Laura Vaccaro Seeger. At 5, my number-loving son Drake is perhaps a little old for it, but he and 3yo Guppy both love it.

One Boy is an illustrated counting-to-ten book, with die-cut pages that show words within words, e.g., “ONE Boy. AlONE.” and small pictures within larger ones. It has a clever, surprise ending and is overall quite charming. I will likely be getting this for our library at home, since our local branch doesn’t have its own copy. I’ll be seeking out Seeger’s other books, too.

Made with local Empire and Keepsake apples, using the Cook’s Illustrated recipe for pie dough with vodka, which I rolled out with my new French-style rolling pin.

Is the title an oxymoron?

From Half-Price Books:

The John McPhee Reader
David Copperfield
Hamlet
One Good Turn by Kate Atkinson
Nicholas Nickleby

From Big Brain Comics:

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

Thank goodness I gave up that silly “I need to stop buying more books” vow.

Links are to available copies at amazon, not necessarily the edition pictured.

A few of our favorite authors have earned their own shelves in our built-in buffet cabinet, based both on number of books and attractiveness. When I love a book, like Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, or Hamlet, I buy a lot of copies–for the illustrations, the footnotes, a cool cover, the introduction, portability, durability, whatever.

Jane Austen and Patrick O’Brian

Anne, Emily and Charlotte Bronte

Shakespeare

Eventually, she understood the house was keeping a secret from her.

All that winter and all through the spring, Almondine had known something was going to happen, but no matter where she looked she couldn’t find it. Sometimes, when she entered a room, there was the feeling that the thing that was going to happen had just been there, and she would stop and stare and peer around while the feeling seeped away as mysteriously as it had arrived.

I finally started The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, and am enjoying it so far, though I’m only about 100 pages in. I like the prose, the dog point of view, the characters, and their relationships to their dogs. I was amused to see Pat Holt’s description of the book in her recent post on publishing:

big-sprawling-summer-novel+Hamlet gimmick+beautiful-writing+struggling author backstory+DOGS DOGS DOGS = Must Read.

(Link from Blog of a Bookslut)