What Children Make Possible

I have a guest blog up over at my friend Rae's blog.
You can read it here.

In Which My Son Becomes Hypergraphic

If I ever doubt my efficacy as a mother and a writer (and if you have found your way here, you know I do), my doubts have been assuaged, nay, slaughtered, by my son's recent foray into the form of the epistolary novel. The name of it, which I have coined from the names of his characters, is Letters from Parsel, Beestower, Night Jade and Kwen. 
Let it be hereby known that:

1. My son is a geek
2. Those names make me feel like I'm trapped in a bad fantasy novel
3. My son has written more today than I have in the last month, AND
4. The above make me feel like a wild success as a writer/mother

So rather than wallowing, let me just say Huzzah! And as long as Son doesn't stow the letters beneath his bed in the style he is wont to do (i.e. like a homeless person acquiring fuel for a long winter's night), I will remain, ever,

Proud Mother

Mothers' Day Movie Marathon

My friend and I planned a Dance Movie Marathon and accidentally had it on Mothers' Day. I didn't know it was Mothers' Day when I picked that day, but we ended up having it yesterday anyway. It was perfect, actually, because I believe that on Mothers' Day one should be entirely free of any maternal duties. Son and MB gave me the "Juno" soundtrack, which I love.
My friend made delicious chocolate chip cookies, and I made enchiladas (the sauce was amazing!!). We walked to the store for ice between movies 1 & 2, and we made some margaritas for movie 3.
The movies were supposed to start at 1, but we had some technical difficulties, and I was a bit late. By the end of the night, we were one whole movie behind. We started around 1:30 and ended after 10. It was so worth it.
The line up:
Footloose. I hadn't seen this in so long, that I'd forgotten Sarah Jessica Parker was in it. Also, it's weird to watch it so close to where it was filmed. All the girls had Idaho hair as far as I could tell (but I guess it's also Utah hair). Also, a colleague was in it, though we didn't see him. But he was there, somewhere.
Breakin'. I'd never seen this, and it was very dated, just as Footloose was. But the dancing was good. I think the white girl wasn't a very good dancer, but what do I know. Loved the 80s outfits, such as the leotards with belts and ripped shirts. It kind of made me want to watch Flashdance. I think my favorite part was the young Ice T.
Strictly Ballroom. Again, it had been ages since I'd seen this. I think this might have been the only truly good movie in the line up. The father is hilarious in his solo dance scenes. And the hair!! This made me want to learn to dance so I could do the Flamenco, which is what I think they did. Shows how much I know about dancing.
Save the Last Dance. I had never seen this one, and I liked it. I liked the inter-racial romance thing it had going on. Also the dancing (in the bar at least) was good.

Some weird convergences: "True Colors" was featured in both Strictly Ballroom and Save the Last Dance (I think... it was in two different movies anyway). Also Save the Last Dance featured a shout out to Turbo and Ozone, the dance stars of Breakin'. All the movies featured the "outsider" or "loner" against the mainstream. Most of the movies used either class or race issues to explore this mainstream/other plot line. And as Lis pointed out, the makers of Step Up 2: The Streets had obviously studied Breakin'.
Also, having watched these four movies I now understand that most of our problems can be solved through dancing. (And by "our" I mean whatever group you belong to: young people in rural Americans, white people, ballroom dancers, racially divided groups of people in Chicago, etc.)
I now think that I should have a movie marathon every Mothers' Day. Maybe next year it will be movies featuring teachers and/or English teachers. Maybe Dead Poets' Society, Stand and Deliver, Dangerous Minds, Freedom Writers, Mr. Holland's Opus. Any other suggestions for themes and/or movies?

Pretending I'm Not Old

I went out last night with some, shall we say, younger people. Not only did they drink me under the table (they were under the table, metaphorically, while I was upright, sipping my ice water), they reminded me why I am usually home, asleep, after 11 p.m.

1. Music at clubs is loud. And mostly incomprehensible. Witness Sleepytime Gorilla Museum. I couldn't bear to listen to the music at their website, but I'm guessing it's just as incomprehensible as it was last night at 12:42 a.m.
2. You can't talk to anyone. (see number one)
3. Young people are weird. Maybe it's just that people are weird, but there were lots of people with face piercings and abundant tattoos. But perhaps even more strange was that, mixed in with those people, were some girls who clearly were trying to dress like/be Paris Hilton.
4. I'd rather listen to music in my living room while I drink beer or wine or whatever. I can control the volume and, what's better, turn it off if I feel like it.
   

On the plus side, I did like the opening band, whose lyrics were more comprehensible. One of my companions compared their music to Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! The only lyrics I could hear were "I like shiny things." The lead singer then proceeded to name all the people in the band and say, for example, "Lewis likes shiny things." Apparently the front man/song writer for this group grew up in Orem. Enuf said. I think they are called Perbats, but as it was so loud in the club, that is only a guess.

The Sleepytime Monkey people were scary, in a screaming, speed metal way. AND the lead dude looked like a satyr. He should have been playing a pan flute.
On the plus side, I ran in to old friend Brian K, who was a sight for sore eyes. And whose eyes aren't sore when one is standing in a smoky bar past midnight?
One of my companions showed up after 11, was surprised to find me still there. I bought him a big (huge!) beer in honor of his 25th (that's right!) birthday. I made everyone promise me that they were walking home before I left. Ever the mother.
I also had to promise to show them pictures of myself with a shaved head. But that's a different story.