"B" Movies

My aunt went to the video store over the weekend and rented a couple of movies for $0.50 each. Needless to say, she and my mother did not make it all the way through either movie. They turned them off after half an hour. I chuckled to myself as my mother described the movies because it brought back so many memories from my teen years.

We were one of the first among my friends to buy a VCR. At first, we made careful choices, choosing movies we'd wanted to see but missed at the theatre since rentals were not that cheap when VCRs first came out. I even remember the first movie we rented: Grease. Things seemed to go downhill from there.

We'd often send my father to the video store with specific titles to rent. But somehow, while he was there, he'd be drawn to the shelves of "B" titles; movies no one had ever heard of, and for good reason. For reasons still unknown today, my father always picked movies from that shelf. He'd come home with losers such as Basket Case (a ridiculous horror film) or Fatal Attraction, but NOT the Fatal Attraction starring Glenn Close. No. Instead, we saw the nonsensical plot lines that never made it to the big screen.

We'd beg him not to look at those shelves. We'd question his choices. We'd groan, and threaten, and write our movie choices down. We'd do anything to prevent him from going. But every now and then, he still made his way to the video store and returned home with another gem. It became a running joke. We knew we were watching movies that no other family in their right minds would watch.

I suspect if he were sent there to rent a DVD today, he'd still find that shelf of "specials." And you know who he'd run into? My aunt.

Rule #1

During the Mad Anthony Writer's Conference, I attended a workshop on "Managing Exposition." (Exposition: all the necessary factual information in a work of fiction including setting, character descriptions and backstories, flashbacks, summaries and processes.)

During the session, we had a brief writing exercise. We had 5 minutes to write a passage that explained a rule, without using too much exposition. Here was my submission.

"Ginny? Come on in."

Karen stepped aside as Ginny cross the threshold, lugging a garbage bag and a pillow with her. She stepped tentatively inside the door as the police cruiser crunched across the gravel parking lot. Karen waved the officer away, then dead bolted the door.

"I'll take you to your room in just a minute," she told Ginny as she removed the garbage bag from her hand and set it near a small table in the foyer. "But first I need you to sign this confidentiality agreement."

"What is it?" Ginny asked with a hint of suspicion in her voice.

"It just says that you will not disclose the location of the shelter or any details about it or the people in it. If you do, you'll be asked to leave."

A defiant look flittered across Ginny's face. Karen had seen that look before; Ginny wouldn't like following the rules.

"I'm not gonna tell anybody," she said dismissively. "Give me a pen."

Enough Reality!

I don't know whether Isaiah Mustafa
has his own reality series or not,
but it wouldn't surprise me.

Am I the only person in the world who is sick-to-death of reality shows? I mean, really. Swamp People? Mob Wives? "Real" Housewives of any city in America, and Moonshiners? Apparently, as soon as you manage to get your fifteen minutes of fame, cable networks will coming running to your door, offering you a platform for your own reality TV show. I can't take it any more.

I ignore most of them, since I can choose not to flip to those stations and give those shows my ratings. I can usually adopt my live-and-let-live attitude toward them. But this morning, when I saw that crass, bullying, despicable Russell from Survivor now has his own show on A&E, I thought I might throw a chair against the wall. I can't stand it anymore.

What has our society come to when skanks, bullies, and moronic people suddenly get rewarded with riches and fame for being crass, skanky, and mean? Do we really find this entertaining?

I, for one, am on strike. I refuse to watch any more "reality" TV and will not give these shows my ratings. I'd like to boycott the stations that air them, too, but that means I'd never turn on my TV again. Maybe that's not a bad idea...

Enough reality, already. I'm done.

Anticipation

Yesterday, a woman told me that she'd read that the only stress-relieving effect of vacations is actually in the anticipation of the vacation, not the vacation itself.

I don't believe that at all.

But just in case, I decided to start planning another trip today. I do feel more relaxed already.

Crab Feast

The waiter emerged from the kitchen’s swinging double doors with a platter of crabs held high above his head. He weaved through the tables and came to a stop in front of the Arnsworth family. Mr. Arnsworth  sat up taller in his chair and adjusted the waistband of his pants. He grabbed a roll from the basket on the table and cleared his throat. He was ready to eat.

Mrs. Arnsworth smoothed the linen napkin in her lap. She folded her hands in her lap and smiled at the waiter as he presented their seafood feast. She mentally calculated the astronomical amount of calories contained in the small bowls of melted butter. She shouldn’t indulge, but she did love butter. She licked her lips and breathed in the aroma of seafood and salt air. This was her vacation! A little butter wouldn’t kill her.

Robby sat still in his seat, staring at the mound of red shells. Just that afternoon he’d played with hermit crabs scuttling across the sand. His mother didn’t even know that he’d kept one of the crabs in a bucket. He was going to take it home and keep it as a pet.

The waiter set the tray down with a flourish. He straightened up and smiled brightly at the Arnsworth family. “Who’d like a bib?” he asked. No one took him up on his offer. Instead, they wished him away and turned their attention back to the delectable bounty before them. All but Robby, who frowned as his family began transferring crabs to their plates. His plate remained empty as his family began passing the butter. It came to him, but he kept his arms at his side.

“I want grilled cheese.”

Sleep



This is not my bedroom. If it were, I'd probably sleep better.


There's been a lot of conversation within my relationship circles lately regarding sleep, or better yet, lack of sleep. I've been a horrible insomniac for most of my life but never really worried about it until I learned that it is a contributing factor in developing dementia. That scared the bejeezus out of me! And made me worry more that I wouldn't be able to sleep.

Everyone I know offered advice. I'm sharing some of their suggestions here, in case, like me, you have trouble falling asleep and/or staying  asleep.

1. Establish a bedtime routine. Going to bed at roughly the same time every night and following a bedtime ritual helps you trick yourself into getting ready to sleep. (Kinda like you do for a baby.)
2. Take all electronics (computer, smart phones, television, etc..) out of the bedroom. You're there to sleep; not work.
3. Make the room dark.
4. Read before bedtime.
5. Listen to audiobooks so that you can keep the room dark and your eyes closed.
6. If you can't sleep, get up and read or do something else relaxing instead of tossing and turning.
7. Limit caffeine. (This is the toughie for me. but I have stopped drinking coffee after noon.)
8. Take melatonin every day to reset your sleep cycle.

I've tried everything on this list. All of these suggestions have helped, but I'll admit that melatonin has made the biggest difference. I have a prescription for Ambien, but don't take it unless I really can't sleep, which is problematic since at that point, I probably don't have enough time to let the Ambien work. But by taking melatonin every night, it has improved my ability to fall asleep.

I still have some sleepless nights, but the insomnia is much less frequent now. I think the biggest change is actually that I take sleep more seriously now. I'd never considered how important it was to my health before, but now that I do, I'm making sure I get more sleep.

Ohio's Got Talent

What a talent! My daughter can hula hoop and do just about anything else at the same time: crouch down, walk around, jump up and down, read, etc.. Here she's braiding her hair as the hula hoop spins.

Trust me - she did not get this talent from me!