Friday, December 16, 2005

MOVIE: Syriana

A: Truly enjoyed it. Well written. Well directed. Great acting. Not very predictable. And it made me fire up a couple of extra braincells in order to keep all the threads together while it was unravelling. Good stuff, this movie. Just what I like to pay my hard earned money to see. And I'm very glad that I saw it on the big screen.

B: It's a liberal wet dream. You know, typical far left dogma: rich people are evil, poor people are oppressed, oil is the blood of Lucifer, we suckle off Middle Eastern teat by turning a blind eye to the human rights violations of our oil-bearing allies, money can't buy happiness, let's all hug a seal and sing peace songs in bed with our neighbor. Could have been a little LESS liberal, but it still worked for me. I've a thick skin. I'll let you present your opinion in your movie.

C: C is for Cindy. She fell asleep. Maybe half way through? She had her fill of Diet Coke and popcorn then drifted off and numbed my arm for at least an hour. Even Clooney couldn't keep her eyes open. But her heat kept me warm and I could feel her heartbeat through her cheek.

It was good to get out of the house. It was good to see something that didn't revolve around computer generated effects or melodramatic chickery. Not sure how much it will gross at the box office, but it will be getting a buttload of nominations for the Blah Blah Blah awards.

And it might even win a few.

Saturday, December 10, 2005

Tis The Season

Mom's birthday. 42, again. A good son won't reveal his mother's age. So I'll feign a good streak and keep it to myself.

As per our family tradition, we celebrate by putting up the Christmas tree and decorations. When I was growing up, Jason usually did the detailed work. I'd help Dad get all the boxes down. Mother would place all the ceramic figures and say a few encouraging words. My brother would spend an hour or two making endless circles with strings of lights and beads and eleventy billion holiday bulbs. I never had the patience for it. Never felt the Christmas spirit. I'd rather watch Mom and Jason enjoy themselves. It was one of those rare occasions when we'd come together as a family with one goal and one set outcome that never failed to live up to our expectations. I even carried the tradition to Atlanta, GA, and we'd wait until Mom's birthday to get set the scene.

This year, the magic has fled. Since the repairs were completed on my Dad's house, Cindy and the kids and I have been living in the computer room. Our lives reduced to the smallest bedroom in the house. Cindy and the children sleep on the "day bed" and I sleep on the living room floor. Because of our schedules, we've all managed to stay out of each other's hair. And thankfully the furnace of summer and hurricane season is behind us. But Christmas in the wake of Katrina isn't the same. We try not to talk about it. But it weighs down our bones. Makes our eyes heavy. Our conversations slower and quieter. And Jason isn't with us. He is in Las Vegas, doing whatever he's going to do. God help him.

But we celebrate our proud tradition. Happy Birthday, Mom. We're raising a tree in your honor. Let the holiday season officially begin for the McDougal Family.