Jedi praise from my young son

"Mom, you're the new Mace Windu!" Reuben chirped this morning.

"Why, thank you, Reuben... Wait, what did you just call me??"

Mace Windu, mighty Jedi knight. (Of course.)

What impressive deed could I have accomplished to inspire such a high compliment from my 8-year-old Star Wars fan?

I used our trusty purple light saber to remove the inch-thick blanket of sleet off the windshield.

Because that's what cool moms do on days when the regular scraper won't work (or...er...um... can't be found in the morning rush).

Monday (Under) Shorts

The problem with fluorescent yellow toenail polish, of course, is that the fluorescence fades. And then you’re just left with yellow toenails.

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Pacing is not my forte. I’ve devoured the first two seasons of The West Wing in about three weeks’ time. I’m taking a break now. And also from Scrabble. I have no turns left to play; my games are completed; so long, time suck. (Not a very nice term, but an accurate one.)

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Searching for the right word for my immoderate consumption of the aforementioned TV show led me to the synonym “bolted.” Which reminded me of this classic exchange between my father and his colleague many years ago…in the A-Town middle school faculty lunch room:

Mr. Smalley: Quit Bolton your food.

Mr. Bolton: OK, I’ll take Smalley bites

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Speaking of quality television programming, our daughter Delia favours a Canadian kid show called Calliou (pronounced K-eye-yu). The theme song provides ample explanation of the show’s premise: “I’m just a kid who’s 4 / Each day I grow some more / I like exploring / I’m Calliou. So many things to do / Each day is something new / I’ll share them with you / I’m Calliou, Calliou, I’m Calliou, Calliou… That’s me!”

We canceled cable, so we watch stuff on Neflix now, which allows you to rate what you watch, which prompts the system to suggest more shows you’d likely enjoy, based on your ratings. The other day I noticed that Calliou had received only one star out of five. Turns out Reuben, in an understated expression of rebellion, had expressed his distaste for the whiny, bald-headed preschooler with overly patient parents. Can’t say I blame him.

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And in the NON-children’s television category, check out this blush-worthy vignette from the Ellen Degenres Show, in which my sister and brother-in-law’s nephew, Mike, WINS the Ellen Underwear Contest. As my mother might say, “Now I’ve seen everything!” Or…er…almost everything.

A la Oscar: Meet Designer Delia! (and her dates)

While the world is going on about the Oscar outcomes and who wore what (or should I say “who wore whom”?… or “who wore which”?... designers, I mean), I thought this might be the perfect moment to reveal our official photo from the Annual Father-Daughter Dance (Thanks, Photosmiths):

I heard that Helen Hunt made an eco-statement by wearing an off-the-rack dress from H&M…accented by $700,000 worth of jewelry! Don’t you just love our Delia-Doll’s Little House on the Prairie dress (made by Grandma B.), artfully accessorized by a strand of metallic-red plastic Mardi Gras beads. And the shoes! Sparkle-denim bobos with pink-striped soles, also purchased “off the rack” from Goodwill (if memory serves). Lulu is entirely outfitted in hand-me-downs from her older sister, who preferred to sport jersey and cleats at soccer practice the night of the dance.

A toast to reinventing oneself

“Sometimes you wanna go

Where everybody knows your name…”

But other times you wanna go

Where no one does…

They’re not sure if they’re glad you came,

But they will be.

You can start over and

Be someone better.

Fluorescent yellow toenail polish and other tide-stemmers (puzzling through long-forgotten physics lessons to find inspiration for the here and now)

http://cerrissa.blogspot.com/2010/03/42-yellow-fever.html

I studied physics in the early 1990s. A lanky plain-clothes nun in her 60s was my teacher. She didn’t seem to like me much, but that was okay. I didn’t like physics much, but I did manage to eke out an 86 on my Regents exam (even though Miss Godliness and Kindness predicated I’d fail). And although the formulas of physics seemed to stump my poetry-prone intellect, I do recall a few factoids from way back when. For one: “An object in motion tends to stay in motion.” Google tells me this is Newton’s First Law of Motion. I think the flip side of this rule goes something like, “An object at rest tends to stay at rest.”

A body of water can be considered an object, right? And it moves—ergo, ocean tides. The power of gravity controls the tides, right? The sun, the moon, the earth, their magnetic relationship, their constant motion—it’s a dance, you might say…if, like me, you prefer arts to sciences.

This fascinating albeit embarrassingly simplistic physics reminiscence is just a clunky lead-in to my frequent mental battle cry of late: “Stem the tide! Stem the tide!”

You see, this body has not been in motion in months. Yes, yes—I’ve been “going through the motions” of everyday life. But my body-sculpting physical activities of running, walking and yoga have fallen by the wayside of winter. And like my formerly toned muscles, my mental state has similarly atrophied.

Today, I am stemming the tide—stemming the tide!—by…

1)      Painting my toenails fluorescent yellow. I happened across this bottle of polish because, as I’ve mentioned before, my house is like an ocean and you never know what the tide of clutter will bring in. Today, it revealed fluorescent yellow nail polish, and I applied it to my toes.

2)      Blasting The Wiggles Dance Party on our decades-old entertainment system, simultaneously amusing and mortifying my children, all of whom are home from school this week…and I do mean home, because we can’t afford to go to Disney World.

3)      Writing this blog post. Because I like to write like some people like to knit. I find it relaxing. You don’t have to read it, just like you don’t have to wear the scarf your Cousin Susie made you for Christmas. (But why wouldn’t you?)

And now, for my final tide-stemming act of this early afternoon, I’m going to sweep the living room. Because there’s that aforementioned tide of clutter to stem, as well as my physical and mental deterioration to resist. And I believe what my father has always said regarding these matters: “Every little bit helps.” Google tells me that’s an old saying from the 1550s, but I think I’ll dub it Bolton’s First Law of Perseverance.

The Decade(s)-Old DVR: Netflix

I’m not much of a TV watcher—it just doesn’t seem to fit into my life the way it did when I was 10. But on multiple recommendations from friends, we became Netflix subscribers about a year and a half ago. Ever since, I’ve been catching up on all the good shows I’ve missed in the past decade (or two). Such as (in approximate order of discovery)…

Lead actors from Daniel Deronda, number 5 on my Netflix list

 1)      Felicity—This show depicting the life of a college girl (portrayed by Keri Russell, of whom I’m a fan) began airing just after I left college. I related to some of the title character’s roller-coaster relationship issues…so much so that I think it would have been a bit too painful to watch when it originally came out. Like many series, I liked the beginning better than the end.

2)      The Office—I’d heard gobs of people gab about this show, of course, but I’d never seen it. And now I understand what all the fuss was about. Very funny. Michael Scott has a doppelganger in my life (in personality more than physical appearance), but I won’t say who it is.

3)      Drop Dead Diva—Odd premise but clever show. I liked the lead character, Jane Bingham, more, not less, as time went on.

4)      North & South—Outstanding British period drama. Watched the whole miniseries through twice because it was that good.

(As an aside, my regard for this show and Downton Abbey prompted a couple of friends to recommend another British series, Lark Rise To Candleford. It’s not on Netflix, but I’ve borrowed a few seasons through my local library, and enjoyed them.)

5)      Daniel Deronda—A compelling adaptation of the George Eliot novel. Rather dark, but riveting and well done.

6)      Dance Academy—This Australian drama, aimed at the teen set, drew me in. I didn’t care for the lead character, Tara, as much as some of her “frenemies.” Catchy theme song, too.

7)      Life Unexpected—Only the first five or six episodes were really worth watching. (But of course I kept watching because I wanted to see how things ended up.)

8)      Once Upon a Time—Really interesting twist on fairy tales, and good production qualities (costumes, makeup, sets, etc.). Scary, though—not for kids.

9)      The West Wing—Where have you been all my life? I just discovered this fascinating, well-written show last week…about 10 years after the rest of the world, I know. I’m a few episodes into Season 2 already, with plenty to go. No spoilers, please!

And since I couldn’t come up with a number 10 in the TV category, I’ll mention one movie I stumbled across and liked very much:

10)   Arranged—This tale of two single women teachers—one an Orthodox Jew, the other a conservative Muslim—reveals their struggles to find husbands, as well as their place in a faith-averse culture, from a different perspective than is familiar to me. And yet, I strongly identified with both characters. Narratives that reveal universal human experiences such as uncertainty, hope, humor and courage, are the best sort of stories, don’t you agree?

Disclaimer: Please note that I’m not necessarily endorsing all these shows. I’m just saying that I enjoyed them. Maybe you will, too. (And while I don’t want spoilers, I will take recommendations. Got some???)

Forsaking Facebook for benefit of books

http://olivyaz.blogspot.com/2011/03/lent-is-here.html

I have decided to un-follow Facebook
I have decided to un-follow Facebook
I have decided to un-follow Facebook
No turning back, no turning back.
(Until Easter.)

Yes, I am resolved to forsake Facebook this Lenten season, for the benefit of books...and the bevy of other spiritual supplements I have neglected because my friends are so darn fascinating! I want to read, write and run, all of which, in my world, are forms of prayer--that turning and returning to God that we Christians are called...invited...to heed especially at this time of year.

I plan to check in twice a week, Wednesdays and Saturdays at 12 noon, for a maximum of 15 minutes. A stronger saint might not need these planned "cheats," but I admit my weakness. A further-along Christian might also refrain from publicly sharing her private intentions to obey the call to prayer and fasting. But there again, I need the accountability this declaration affords. (Plus, I am vain enough to imagine that maybe my absence will be felt...at least enough that people might wonder what's become of me.)

So from tomorrow 'til April, I'll have my nose in a book and my nose to the grindstone. This is a busy season, as well as a contemplative one. Juxtapositions abound.