Thursday, August 25, 2011

"The Help" ...needs none.

Yes, just when I was about to scream in frustration over the complete lack of anything worthy of celluloid, someone answered my cry with an absolute gem.

Folks this is a movie you should take your children to see, ages eight and up. I know eight sounds a bit young, but in this day and age, exposure to bigotry is going to be Sesame Street tame compared to the Grand Theft Auto game they've been playing at the next door neighbors house.

This will be educational for them, (nothing violent) and very entertaining for you. Your toughest job will be to field their questions after the movie. If they don't ask any, then you should...ask them what they thought, ask them how they felt about what those women were going through. For cripes sake, don't waste a perfectly good opportunity to help your kids understand what is and what is not acceptable human behavior.

Enough preaching, on to the the movie...

It was fantastic, I felt it really captured a taste of what was happening in this country in that era, and in particular that portion of the South. Of course the casting was absolutely stellar, that for me was enough of a selling point. While I would be perfectly comfortable drolling on and on about how great Emma Stone's performance was (it was), I think that it's high time we give some attention to the less favored cast members.

No I'm not talking about Octavia Spencer, Viola Davis, or any of the other fine ladies who portrayed the movies title, I'm talking about those who played the roles of the worst kind of humanity life had to offer back in that time. In particular, I would like to congratulate Bryce Dallas Howard for her superlatively played role, she was easily and believably the most despicable character one could hope for in such a film.

Friday, August 19, 2011

This just in...

So I have had absolutely no luck with finding homes for my three little monsters, Cali, Tosh and George...err Georgina...

Which means that I have to get them used to spending their days outside, while I'm at work. I live in the country and these three have basically been shacking up in my studio cottage since their mother gave birth to them in my closet. (See previous post for details.)

Last Saturday they got their distemper immunization, and thus began a gradual acclimation to the idea that they were free to go outside as long as I was home and had the sliding glass door open.

Sunday they were out nearly the entire day, and wow did they sleep well, as did I for a change. The past few week days they've been allowed to go outside early in the morning, and at some point would pop back inside for love and kibble before I went to work. I was keeping them inside while at work and then letting them out again when I returned home, with the understanding that they had a ten o'clock curfew.

I knew that like any teenage right of passage, at some point they would rebel against these rules and restrictions, and I was prepared to make allowances. Sure enough, on Thursday morning, they simply did not want to come back inside. I knew this day would come, and so I made my goodbyes to Cali and Tosh, and then found myself searching for one last glimpse of Georgina...

Oh! There she was, in the lowest branches of a medium height pine tree. She seemed happy and so I waved goodbye. Yeah I know...I should have seen it coming right?

I returned home to the happy hello's of Cali and Tosh, who were just gushing about how fantastic their day had been, when I began to notice the petulant cry of their missing sibling.

George had moved from her earlier respectable perch of 6 feet, to a spectacular height of about 23 feet, and she had at some point in the day developed a real fear of heights. In short she was stuck.

She had the whole climbing up principle down, it was the climbing down part that was the real trick.

As you can imagine, I spent hours out under that tree yesterday, cajoling, calling calmly and lovingly. I shook kibble, I displayed luxury cat foods, I (yes with much guilt) resorted to trying to get her mind off of her fear of heights by spraying her with water. It sort of worked, she moved down three feet. Then...I left her alone to regroup. The sun was gonna go down in an hour and so I made a rash decision...

I don't know about you, but I haven't climbed a tree since I was...14? Yes, I had to try...and damn! I managed to get within 5 feet of the little rascal, and what did she do? You guessed it, she just climbed 6 feet higher!

George slept in the tree last night, and only moments after I called work with my embarrassing excuse for having to not come in, there she was...on the floor...eating her breakfast kibble.

She's sleeping quite soundly right was a rough night for her, although she does have a very lovely pine sent.

Poor Georgina....crazy cat!

Sunday, August 7, 2011

So a funny thing happened to me on the way home...3 months ago...

For the last fifteen or so years of my life I have lived alone, and I have grown very accustomed to it.

Like any life style there are down sides, but I have learned to accept them and have become very fond of never losing an argument with myself, and who doesn't love having total control over the remote?

I'm not by any means a selfless person, I have very few responsibilities outside of work, no children to tend to, nothing to tie me down, etc... People have often told me that I should get a pet, maybe a dog or a cat, to which I have always given a firm, "No thanks." I'm barely responsible for myself people, why on earth would anyone want to subject my ineptitude's upon some hapless creature?

Which is why I find myself in the most unlikely of situations, and what my mother has laughingly referred to as a very odd midlife crisis.

Three months ago, I was minding my own business, and coming home late one night with groceries. It was raining steadily and I had little to no light when I arrived at my front door. In my haste to get the groceries inside I'd left the door ajar while I went for the last few bags.

With groceries put away, and the rain outside falling at a steady tempo, I eventually fell asleep.

In the morning I woke to a cat providing me salutations, "Hello...I would like out now...thank you very much."

"What the, who the, how the heck did you get in here?!" I asked with a measure of confusion while checking the doors...both locked.

To which the cat, in a way that only cats seems to be able to inflect - said, "I hardly think that matters, the point of fact is that I want out. Now please."

I figured at that point that it must have slipped inside during the grocery episode, in an effort to escape the weather.

Seeing nothing else in my very tiny studio apartment amiss, I shrugged my shoulders and opened the door. The cat made it's exit without so much as a thanks, typical cat.

I took a shower, dressed and had my allotted coffee for the day. With fifteen minutes left before I needed to go, I spotted my closet door open. Did I leave that open all night? Did the cat sleep in there? Did it do anything else in there? Oh shit...

I spent the next ten minutes looking around in there, but much to my relief, found noting.

So I went to work, and when I got back home, I found a very familiar looking cat at my door. "Took you long enough, do you mind opening the door now?"

"Look cat, I don't mind the occasional visit and all, but it's not raining and I'm not exactly running a boarding house" I tried opening the door to get inside while blocking it's entry with my shoe...

With catlike agility it slipped past with hardly an effort, and headed straight for the closed closet door. Stopping and then looking back with catlike annoyance, "Did you close this? What the heck is it with you people and doors, anyway?"

Awe shit..., I walked over, opened the door and listened while SHE slipped inside. Sure enough, her entrance was soon answered by multiple kitten like sounds. That weekend, I confirmed the arrival of three very tiny, and very uninvited guests.

I was all prepared to put them in a box with a nice warm towel and place them in a nice dry nook of the properties car port. The mother would find them, and my involvement would be over.

Here's the problem, I didn't do that, instead I found myself overwhelmed with a measure of selflessness I'd never known. The instant I pulled the first of them out, Cali - I knew that I wasn't going to put them out, and abandon them to all the perils of a feral cats life. My normal self said, "Do you have any idea the nightmare in money and loss of sleep this is going to cost you?"

Deranged self said, "Yes, and even still I find that I cannot do otherwise. These three were delivered to me by fate, and I would hardly be a proper host if I kicked them to the curb."

To which self replied, "Your an idiot."


So I'd like to introduce you all to Cali (Calico), Tosh (Tuxedo), and Georgina (Tortoise) going vogue.