I don't really have the energy to write a full review of Wall-E, which we snuck out a little early today to go see (shh, don't tell anybody). Suffice to say: love.
A couple of highlights: Sigourney Weaver voices a ship's computer on self-destruct. The scenes with the cockroach are funny and adorable. The ships in the dry harbor are frightening and sad and Eve's frustration is palpable. How is it possible that a robot's emotions are palpable? The animators didn't cheat, that I could see; the robots didn't smile, or get themselves out of a jam with suddenly opposable thumbs, or otherwise become implausibly people-ish. Yet they had personality to spare, especially Wall-E. The end brought tears to my eyes. Stupid robots.
Another fun note: one of the robots is rebooted, and the sound it makes when it turns on is the sound a Mac makes when it turns on. Funny.
And the closing credits were awesome. Lovely imagery telling the coda to the story.
My biggest complaint had to do with the audience surrounding us. In front of us, we had a pair of women with their obviously handicapped young woman companion. In back of us, we had a family of indeterminate size with a couple of relatively young children; I'd guess 5-7. Three guesses which party annoyed me more. Yes, it was the family, but again, not for the reason you might think. The adult (or adults) in the party would not shut up. The children were speaking conversationally, asking questions as kids are apt to do, and that didn't bother me. What bothered me was the fact that about 7 times out of 10, the adult (or adults) answered them conversationally. Meaning that Bruce and I got to hear the explanation of how there was so much trash on the world as if they were speaking to us at a dinner party. Every so often there would be a "Shhhh!" or a response in a whisper, but far more often it was as if these people thought the movie theater was their own living room.
I'm embarrassed at myself to report, however, that the young handicapped woman made nary a peep. When I realized she was handicapped, in a way that may make her prone to loud involuntary outbursts, shamefully, my first thought was "Oh great." Then in my head, I was all, "Wait, she has every right to be here, and I would want people to give us the same courtesy if we had Caetlin with us." I remain embarrassed to admit that she was far better of a movie watching companion than the family behind us.
Anyway, good movie. Way way worth seeing. Just don't talk to your kids as if you were in your own home, m'kay? Thanks!
Friday, July 18, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Garden Update: Because I Know You Want It
While going through the Alaska pics and putting together one or more appropriate narrative posts might take awhile, I thought I would include a few pics of the garden, to whose crazy thick growth I returned.
The tomatoes are going crazy, and one of the what look like Roma tomatoes is starting to get some orange color.
Here is the freaky watermelon, that is growing so ridiculously fast. I added this little border to try to encourage it to grow away from the rest of the garden. Can I just say that I find it a little creepy how its little tendrils wind around everything, including the wire border fence (that I cleared away from the watermelon this evening), the grass outside the bed, etc.
Here are the way overgrown herbs. I need to find a pair of scissors and go harvest them back a bit.
Even the mint that was believed lost has made a nice recovery.
All is not totally well in the tomato's world, however. Bruce is always worrying about "varmints" (his word) taking the tomatoes before they get ripe. Well, this evening, his worries were well-founded- a varmint grabbed one of the green tomatoes.
"Wait, you mean I wasn't supposed to pick this?"
"You'll forgive me because I'm adorable, though."
The tomatoes are going crazy, and one of the what look like Roma tomatoes is starting to get some orange color.
Here is the freaky watermelon, that is growing so ridiculously fast. I added this little border to try to encourage it to grow away from the rest of the garden. Can I just say that I find it a little creepy how its little tendrils wind around everything, including the wire border fence (that I cleared away from the watermelon this evening), the grass outside the bed, etc.
Here are the way overgrown herbs. I need to find a pair of scissors and go harvest them back a bit.
Even the mint that was believed lost has made a nice recovery.
All is not totally well in the tomato's world, however. Bruce is always worrying about "varmints" (his word) taking the tomatoes before they get ripe. Well, this evening, his worries were well-founded- a varmint grabbed one of the green tomatoes.
"Wait, you mean I wasn't supposed to pick this?"
"You'll forgive me because I'm adorable, though."
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Back on the East Coast
And the jetlag is simply awful. We took the redeye last night (delayed a day because of awful weather in Atlanta on Sunday night, so our vacation stretched an extra day. It turns out it is less of an adventure than it is a hassle to have to extend by a day when your mind had already been turned to taking the flight and going home and returning to work), and arrived as the sun was rising over the city this morning. Neither Bruce nor I got even a few minutes of sleep on the plane, though Caetlin managed to grab about three hours. We were all wiped out when we got home, and Caetlin went right back to sleep until about 2 p.m. Bruce and I catnapped for a couple of hours and then went in to spend an utterly useless day at work, with both of us struggling to stay awake and not accomplishing much in the way of anything. We came home to crash hard, which we did around 7:30, falling into a deep sleep.
...And we're both awake now at 11:30, which according to our bodies is 7:30 in the evening. Thanks to her still taking an afternoon nap and the fact that she was completely sleep deprived, Caetlin managed to go down at 8:00 or so (4:00-late but still doable naptime- according to her body) and has so far slept through the night. Our hope is that she will sleep all the way through and then be most of the way adjusted to the new time zone. The night time in her room probably has to help with that.
As for us, I am hopeful that we can sleep again before it gets too late, as the work marches apace and I truly need to be less out of it tomorrow than I was today.
We just ordered a pizza (yeah, our respective diets have gone kaplooie while on vacation. We're getting back to them tomorrow, for while I am not trying to lose weight any more, for El Segundo related reasons, I am trying not to gain too much weight with this baby), so we'll be up for awhile. Wish us luck on getting at least some sleep.
More on our Alaska adventures, as well as the inevitable photo montages, later, probably this weekend, as we settle back into our normal lives.
...And we're both awake now at 11:30, which according to our bodies is 7:30 in the evening. Thanks to her still taking an afternoon nap and the fact that she was completely sleep deprived, Caetlin managed to go down at 8:00 or so (4:00-late but still doable naptime- according to her body) and has so far slept through the night. Our hope is that she will sleep all the way through and then be most of the way adjusted to the new time zone. The night time in her room probably has to help with that.
As for us, I am hopeful that we can sleep again before it gets too late, as the work marches apace and I truly need to be less out of it tomorrow than I was today.
We just ordered a pizza (yeah, our respective diets have gone kaplooie while on vacation. We're getting back to them tomorrow, for while I am not trying to lose weight any more, for El Segundo related reasons, I am trying not to gain too much weight with this baby), so we'll be up for awhile. Wish us luck on getting at least some sleep.
More on our Alaska adventures, as well as the inevitable photo montages, later, probably this weekend, as we settle back into our normal lives.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Happy 4th of July
PHILADELPHIA. JULY 3, 1776. EVENING. TO ABIGAIL:
[T]he delay of this declaration to this time has many great advantages attending it. The hopes of reconciliation which were fondly entertained by multitudes of honest and well meaning, though weak and mistaken people, have been gradually, and at last totally, extinguished. Time has been given for the whole people maturely to consider the great question of independence, and to ripen their judgment, dissipate their fears, and allure their hopes, by discussing it in newspapers and pamphlets – by debating it in assemblies, conventions, committees of safety and inspection – in town and county meetings, as well as in private conversations; so that the whole people, in every colony, have now adopted it as their own act. This will cement the union, and avoid those heats, and perhaps convulsions, which might have been occasioned by such a declaration six months ago.
But the day is past. The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epocha in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great Anniversary Festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade with shews, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires and illuminations from one end of the continent to the other, from this time forward forever more.
You will think me transported with enthusiasm; but I am not. I am well aware of the toil and blood and treasure, that it will cost us to maintain this Declaration, and support and defend these states. Yet through all the gloom I can see the rays of ravishing Light and Glory. I can see that the end is more than worth all the means, and that posterity will triumph in that day's transaction, even although we should rue it, which I trust in God we shall not.
John Adams
Hat tip: A List of Things Thrown Five Minutes Ago, from whom I shamelessly stole the link and the same excerpt.
[T]he delay of this declaration to this time has many great advantages attending it. The hopes of reconciliation which were fondly entertained by multitudes of honest and well meaning, though weak and mistaken people, have been gradually, and at last totally, extinguished. Time has been given for the whole people maturely to consider the great question of independence, and to ripen their judgment, dissipate their fears, and allure their hopes, by discussing it in newspapers and pamphlets – by debating it in assemblies, conventions, committees of safety and inspection – in town and county meetings, as well as in private conversations; so that the whole people, in every colony, have now adopted it as their own act. This will cement the union, and avoid those heats, and perhaps convulsions, which might have been occasioned by such a declaration six months ago.
But the day is past. The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epocha in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great Anniversary Festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade with shews, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires and illuminations from one end of the continent to the other, from this time forward forever more.
You will think me transported with enthusiasm; but I am not. I am well aware of the toil and blood and treasure, that it will cost us to maintain this Declaration, and support and defend these states. Yet through all the gloom I can see the rays of ravishing Light and Glory. I can see that the end is more than worth all the means, and that posterity will triumph in that day's transaction, even although we should rue it, which I trust in God we shall not.
John Adams
Hat tip: A List of Things Thrown Five Minutes Ago, from whom I shamelessly stole the link and the same excerpt.
From the Frozen North
We're coming to you on location from Anchorage, in the great northern state of Alaska, and I'm pleased to note that there is nothing frozen about the place. Cool and overcast and a little sprinkly, yes, but "Cool Overcast Sprinkly North" just doesn't have the same ring.
We departed Atlanta at about 2:30 yesterday afternoon for a direct 7-hour flight to Anchorage, and can I say that Caetlin had a grand total of about 25 minutes of sleep the whole day? That, friends, makes for a very long flight. Everyone around us said she did very well- those few who were willing to talk to us or look at us, that is. In all honesty, she had a few high pitched shrieks that she's so fond of right now that probably disturbed some people, and one serious screaming metldown right after she woke up from her abbreviated nap. She was not happy about being awake, and we compounded the problem by trying to shift her onto the seat to make her more comfortable. Instead of her settling back into sleep as we hoped, she woke up and started really working herself up. Bruce walked her around- I tried to take her to the bathroom but the bathrooms in my immediate vicinity were all blocked by people in the aisles. She smashed into my face with her head about then, and left my cheek sore and swollen-feeling.
After Bruce took her, that's when I started crying. I admit, it was a low point for me. It was physical pain- my face hurt!- combined with sadness that I couldn't make Caetlin feel better, plus stress over getting the evil eye from those around us, plus hormones and exhaustion. She kind of calmed down when Bruce brought her back, but she didn't go back to sleep. She didn't sleep until we got her to the hotel and into the crib, by which point she looked nearly comatose and had little bags under her eyes. It was nearly midnight, east coast time, before she had any meaningful sleep.
Otherwise the flight wasn't bad. It was stressful working so hard to keep her happy, and as expected, some of the new stuff we brought for her went over big and some of the stuff tanked. I would like to take a minute and note that I wish there weren't such a stigma against children on airplanes. I understand why there is- I've been on planes where the child near me shrieked non-stop, and it's not fun. I just wish it weren't quite so culturally ingrained, where we feel like we have to put on a three-ring circus for our children just so they will stay quiet, or we as parents are the bad guys. When reading for ideas on how to entertain toddlers on long flights, I read a number of people's comments who were like, "Umm, yeah, Benadryl." This is so insulting on a number of levels. You seriously think I should drug my kid for your comfort? The loud amped-up teenagers next to you or the lady behind you who doesn't have headphones for her DVD player, or the salesman who is laughing too loudly in your ear- they are okay, but if my kid cries, well, I better take care of that right away, shouldn't I?
Sorry, I just hated that it was so incredibly stressful for us to fly, when Caetlin was, except for that 10 minute stretch, no more annoying than any of those kinds of people I named above.
ANYWAY, we made it (the descent into Anchorage was a little bumpy and I immediately realized I was pregnant by getting very airsick, not the needing-the-bag kind, fortunately, but as prone as I am to carsickness, I never get airsick, unless, apparently, I am pregnant), lugging our ridiculous amounts of baggage, and got to the hotel, where we put Caetlin down, ordered food, discovered that the TV in the living room part of our suite is broken and would not let us watch So You Think You Can Dance, and basically went to bed. I was so tired that I stopped eating not because I was full, but because I physically didn't want to expend the effort to continue to manipulate the utensils to continue eating. Let me say that I could have, if I had been hungrier- I don't want to mislead anyone into thinking I was truly utterly exhausted, as opposed to just hyperbolically utterly exhausted. But I really was utterly exhausted. (The second kind.)
I woke up at about 2:30 local time and noticed that outside seemed to have taken on an odd orange cast, during the brief Anchorage "night."
We all awoke at about 5:30 for good, though we just kind of laid around until 7. Then we met our friends whom we are visiting for breakfast. More on our Alaskan 4th of July later.
We departed Atlanta at about 2:30 yesterday afternoon for a direct 7-hour flight to Anchorage, and can I say that Caetlin had a grand total of about 25 minutes of sleep the whole day? That, friends, makes for a very long flight. Everyone around us said she did very well- those few who were willing to talk to us or look at us, that is. In all honesty, she had a few high pitched shrieks that she's so fond of right now that probably disturbed some people, and one serious screaming metldown right after she woke up from her abbreviated nap. She was not happy about being awake, and we compounded the problem by trying to shift her onto the seat to make her more comfortable. Instead of her settling back into sleep as we hoped, she woke up and started really working herself up. Bruce walked her around- I tried to take her to the bathroom but the bathrooms in my immediate vicinity were all blocked by people in the aisles. She smashed into my face with her head about then, and left my cheek sore and swollen-feeling.
After Bruce took her, that's when I started crying. I admit, it was a low point for me. It was physical pain- my face hurt!- combined with sadness that I couldn't make Caetlin feel better, plus stress over getting the evil eye from those around us, plus hormones and exhaustion. She kind of calmed down when Bruce brought her back, but she didn't go back to sleep. She didn't sleep until we got her to the hotel and into the crib, by which point she looked nearly comatose and had little bags under her eyes. It was nearly midnight, east coast time, before she had any meaningful sleep.
Otherwise the flight wasn't bad. It was stressful working so hard to keep her happy, and as expected, some of the new stuff we brought for her went over big and some of the stuff tanked. I would like to take a minute and note that I wish there weren't such a stigma against children on airplanes. I understand why there is- I've been on planes where the child near me shrieked non-stop, and it's not fun. I just wish it weren't quite so culturally ingrained, where we feel like we have to put on a three-ring circus for our children just so they will stay quiet, or we as parents are the bad guys. When reading for ideas on how to entertain toddlers on long flights, I read a number of people's comments who were like, "Umm, yeah, Benadryl." This is so insulting on a number of levels. You seriously think I should drug my kid for your comfort? The loud amped-up teenagers next to you or the lady behind you who doesn't have headphones for her DVD player, or the salesman who is laughing too loudly in your ear- they are okay, but if my kid cries, well, I better take care of that right away, shouldn't I?
Sorry, I just hated that it was so incredibly stressful for us to fly, when Caetlin was, except for that 10 minute stretch, no more annoying than any of those kinds of people I named above.
ANYWAY, we made it (the descent into Anchorage was a little bumpy and I immediately realized I was pregnant by getting very airsick, not the needing-the-bag kind, fortunately, but as prone as I am to carsickness, I never get airsick, unless, apparently, I am pregnant), lugging our ridiculous amounts of baggage, and got to the hotel, where we put Caetlin down, ordered food, discovered that the TV in the living room part of our suite is broken and would not let us watch So You Think You Can Dance, and basically went to bed. I was so tired that I stopped eating not because I was full, but because I physically didn't want to expend the effort to continue to manipulate the utensils to continue eating. Let me say that I could have, if I had been hungrier- I don't want to mislead anyone into thinking I was truly utterly exhausted, as opposed to just hyperbolically utterly exhausted. But I really was utterly exhausted. (The second kind.)
I woke up at about 2:30 local time and noticed that outside seemed to have taken on an odd orange cast, during the brief Anchorage "night."
We all awoke at about 5:30 for good, though we just kind of laid around until 7. Then we met our friends whom we are visiting for breakfast. More on our Alaskan 4th of July later.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
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