Two movies--Beauty and The Beast

I’m going to rant a bit.

It’s a good movie if you can stand the concept.

It’s a good movie if you like gladiator games, and barbarism, and people who force children into being killers.

You know I am talking about The Hunger Games. Husband Dear and I saw it last night. I had to go. (It’s showing about every 15 minutes at the local theater.) When I read that The Scholastic Publishing Company has printed 35.5 million copies of the series, I had to know what people are getting so excited about. I figured seeing the movie was quicker than reading all those books—not that I don’t like to read.

As I said, it’s a good movie if you can stand a government who sends usurpers into poverty, takes 24 of their young people every year, pits them against each other, tells them that they will probably die of exposure, dehydration, or infection before someone stabs them, puts the games on Television for their enjoyment, tweaks the games at bit—such as mine-trapping the provisions, and sending flesh-ripping dog/panther type animals to up the ante, then exalts the one left standing.

Maybe it was all social comment.

The one good point made by the disgusting president was that there is one thing stronger than fear, and that is hope. So they don’t just execute the 24 each year, but make a game of it.

Have I ruined it for you?

You have to love the heroine though. And that’s probably why it’s a good movie. You love the heroine and you care what happens to her. They throw a lot of rocks at her (figuratively speaking, it’s a must in story writing), but she is strong, she never loses her heart, and she beats the system.

Okay—go see the movie, tell me where I’m wrong. Do you come out glad you’re a human being or sad that you are one?

 Number 2:

Okay, here’s a good movie all the way through: Descendants for which George Clooney was nominated for the Academy Award—should have won too.

They throw rocks at him, too, you know that’s a must, and they do it with finesse. Could be a sad story, Clooney’s character’s wife is in a coma. She had an affair. One daughter is in rehab. Clooney is rather at a loss in being a father with the younger daughter. They persevere, they triumph. I was particularly drawn to it because it was set in Hawaii. Particularly enjoyed one of Clooney’s first lines, “Paradise F***’s.”

The writer knew of Hawaii, showcased it, it rained, the landscape was overcast, they go into an off- the-beat island bar. They take off their shoes when entering a house. Clooney runs down the street clumsily in flip-flops. They show the green, the flowers, the land they save for prosperity, the beauty,  they have reason to travel from Honolulu to the Big Island, and to Kauai. Beautiful writing, beautifully acted, beautiful setting.

"Where we goin'?"

“The Lego Convention.” (Pictures below this blog post.)

We cruised down I-5, Daughter Darling, Baby Darling, Bear, Peaches and me. The truck’s repair wasn’t complete, so we opted for the Prius. After filling the space between the driver’s front seat and the car’s back seat to leavel it off for Bear, we loaded our stuff and Daughter Darling's 150 pound dog and took off.

“Where we goin’?” asked 3-year-old Baby Darling.

“The Lego Convention.”

We branched off I-5 on freeway 152 somewhere south of San Jose California and drove through Gilroy where the fragrance of garlic wafted on the breeze, and the desire for roasted garlic on sourdough bread stung in my nostrils for the next 3 days. Being spring and green, the area looked like the landscape around Roseburg Oregon. Three quarters of the year, the oak-tree-dotted areas around Roseburg Oregon are brown, but in the springtime they turn ten thousand shades of green. So it was with the Gilroy area.

 “Where we goin’?”

“The Lego Convention.”

We made it to the Hyatt Regency in Santa Clara where for the first time ever we were excavated from a Hotel due to a fire scare. “Do not take the elevator,” boomed the voice over the loudspeaker. “Take the stairs.” So we traipsed down 7 flights of stairs were poured out into the rain, were given coffee and hot chocolate and soon released with the explanation of, “A little short to the system due to the rain.” Another explanation: it was caused by a little short. (Person.)

Peaches, our poodle, was legal in the hotel being under 50 pounds, but Bear, carrying that 150 pounds, was not.

We had planned to leave Bear in the truck for just that one night since the convention was in that hotel, and we didn’t know what time we would arrive, but temptation was there staring us in the face. A side door was left open due to the fire excavation. Ah ha—entrance into the hotel. Smuggling Bear into the side door and up those 7 flights of stairs, we closed the door on our contraband, just as Daughter number one and grandson from Oregon arrived.

Morning though, hum, how to get Bear out? No open side door. The elevator dumped people virtually into the lobby. Daughter Number one suggested we could throw a blanket over him and walk out.  Or take the Star Wars tactic, "This isn’t the droid you want.”

We took the droid tactic. Daughter Number one, Bear and I walked out. No problem. I don’t think anyone saw us.

The convention consisted of exhibits by Lego aficionados, and a few vendors—the boys loved it. The people were wonderful. The local Lego store, offered 30% off for attendees so we took advantage of their offer by spending Sunday shopping, and playing in the Lego store.

While sitting in the lounge I met a charming young woman who worked at the Monterey Bay Aquarium who told me that in September the Monterey Bay Aquarium exhibits a great white shark for 55 days. They cannot keep one longer than that and if it shows any signs of distress it is immediately released. She told me about the California Academy of the Sciences located at Golden Gate Park in San Francisco where they have an aquarium, a natural history museum, a planetarium, and a four-story rain forest. That was a planned visit that never materialized.

That night we moved to beautiful a pet-friendly hotel, the wonderful Cypress at Cupertino CA, decorated whimsically exquisite, where they loved dogs, didn’t charge a deposit fee, catered to us, served delicious coffee mornings in the lounge, and where I became the chief dog-walker, and the dogs became the chief world-sniffer, and where poor Baby Darling spent two miserable nights with a flaming cold, sicker than I have ever seen him, and the reason we didn’t go to San Francisco.

Tuesday, after sleeping for about 7 hours on the drive home Baby Darling was ready to be home and build a Lego Rube Goldberg contraption.

Here is my favorite Lego built image from the convention--these are not from kits.

and a couple others...

And here's one made entirely by my 6 year old grandson:

Don't believe me? That kid can follow step by step instructions better than any person I've seen.

But I Want A Radio*

*Inside joke on asking for what you want.

I got a new radio for our truck—it plays static and religious stations perfectly, oh yes and Spanish speaking stations, but that isn’t the reason I got it. The old one croaked with a CD stuck inside. After the radio was out Husband Dear found the cause of its demise—a quarter and two pennies were nestled in beside the CD.

The reason for the new radio? Daughter Dear and I want to listen to CD’s on our trip to San Francisco coming up on Friday. We’re taking the truck so we can take the dogs—long story, and the reason we are going to San Francisco is to attend a Lego Convention, and to meet up with Daughter number one and grandson from Oregon.

Daughter Dear sells Legos on ebay on a store called "Happy Bricks," and we figured this conference would be a fascinating adjunct to her business. If we see something terribly creative I will try to get a picture, and post it on the next blog.

Today the mechanic is working on the truck--replacing leaking gaskets, belts, etc. and I am doing the morning shuffle, take HD to jury duty, have the truck's engine steam-cleaned so the mechanics can see what they are doing, drop off truck, go back pick up HD. In the early morning hours the hot air balloonists were out on the hill where we live, and up in the air, but if they fly off course they will end up in a fog thicker than pea soup. (It ought to be something besides that cliche', maybe clam chowder.

David Koop wrote the book Cancer, It’s a Good Thing I Got It!—met him recently--his advice is to always carry a business card of your book so I printed up some. I never know who I will run into in San Francisco…

 Here is my business card…

Thinking, Imagining, Growing Rich

Imagine for a moment you are horseback—it’s a gentle horse, don’t worry. Together we are riding through the forests of Oregon, weaving our way through the beautiful Douglas firs. The wildflowers of spring are coming on; a swath of wild iris is spread before us as though streams of cherubs are throwing violet petals in our path. Only the steady clip-clop of horse’s hooves break the silence. The sun beats warm on our shoulders. The air is brisk against our faces. The steady rhythm of the horse moves our body into a meditative state. And then human voices join the rhythm of the wilds. We talk of many things, we talk about how to get rich—although right now we already are.

A reader asked me what I was doing with the Think and Grow Rich Book. I’ll be honest with you—not that I have lied to you before, except  that this time I had an ulterior motive.  I was reading that to get traffic to one’s blog they ought to give something away. I wracked my brain. I do not have a product.  I don’t want to mail anything.  The things most valuable to a person do not come through the mail anyway, not usually, but what if they did?  Imagine that the secret to getting rich landed on your doorstep. Now that would be like finding gold nuggets spread amongst the wild spring irises wouldn’t it?

Long ago someone said this: “It works if you work it,” Whatever they were referring to I don’t remember, but I do know that that most disciplines work if you work them. A diet never works unless we go on it. And the secrets to success don’t bring about results either unless we apply them.

Think and Grow Rich is a watershed for motivational books, and if you have ever watched the highly successful movie, The Secret, you would find that the secret was spread among the pages of Hill’s book long before the movie came out.

Hill states up front that this book was not written to entertain. It is a textbook. I think, though, that we can make it fun. It is always fun to learn new things. Or to be reminded of old truths.  For those who sign up I will give the web address for the site featuring quotes and commentary on the book Think and Grow Rich. First installment coming this Thursday.

To life!

P.S. Now, here's something I haven't seen before...Disneyland's Matterhorn under scaffolding. The Disney Company always improving, re-inventing, sprucing up. I think the mountain is about to get a new sprinkling of snow.

Apoplexy Sunday!

It all began with cold water—in the shower, Sunday morning.

No hot water? What is this?

It’s too early for Daughter Darling to have used up the hot water.  Okay, check fuses. Husband Dear says they’re okay. We shower in the bathroom off the garage, a second water heater serves that. Warm shower, whew.  Husband Darling said his shower was getting cool by the time he got out. What is going on?

Husband resets the first water heater. The pilot was out. No tearing apart the water heater only to discover that a fuse was fried as my father once did. Hot water heater number one is running fine, except by now number two produces only cold water…How bizarre. Two water heaters turned belly-up all in one day. Conclusion, apparently the Propane delivery man delivered some bubbles along with the liquid gas. The water heaters are resuscitated.

Daughter Darling begins Sunday with vigor. She plans to film Husband Dear’s current work project. Alas, the camera and the editing program won’t speak to each other. She has apoplexy.

We planned to watch the Academy Awards show this evening, carry-in pizza and the Oscars is a family tradition. We do not, however, have television reception, our choice, we never hooked up. We thought we could watch on the internet. Wrong. I spend ten million hours trying to find a site that delivers what they advertise, “Watch the Oscars live.” They lie. I even sign up. I pay. I get Afghanistan stations. That sucks.

Free sites will show the red-carpet arrivals, it will show behind the scenes, and the Governor’s ball, but will not show the actual awards ceremony.

Wait! We have roof-top antennae that we have never tried. We hook up the TV cable and Husband Dear crawls onto the roof. This is reminiscent of the 50’s when my Dad was adjusting our antennae on the hill behind our house in the Columbia River George of Oregon.  I signaled by flashlight—rotate left, turn right, too far. There, you’ve got it. We were able to see a show if we held our breath and squinted through a snow storm.  Here in the 2012 Daughter Darling signals not with a flashlight, but uses a cell-phone. (See we do have some technology that works.) Husband Dear did get an ABC station—except the screen is a whited-out snow storm, and a Spanish interpreter speaks over the top of the English dialogue. The din of the two languages scrambled together is enough to send already fried nerves over the edge. We give up.

I did see that Meryl Streep won for best actress. Now who could beat the performance she gave in Iron Lady? Nobody I’d say.

Less you think we are primitive beyond measure, we do watch some TV shows using Netflick. We just watched Glee, the Concert, and wow, I didn’t believe any person could rival Barbra Streisand’s “Don’t Rain on My Parade,” but Lea Michelle, who plays Rachael on the weekly show Glee, belted out that song with such vigor I almost fell off the couch. Glee, the show, losers they call themselves (far from it), misfits, freaks, the under-dog. People identify. Kids are claiming their uniqueness. People do like positive programing. I knew it!

Monday: We believe the camera problem is solved. All’s well.