Since I'm a glass half full kinda gal we'll start with what I liked, even loved about this movie.
Wonderful voice-overs. There's not a dud in the bunch, but among this stellar group that includes Neil Patrick Harris, Anna Ferris, and James Cahn, two stand out;
Flint Lockwood - This unapologetic nerd is done proud by Bill Hader. Flint is a fearless risk-taker (who else would invent a rat bird), but also yearns to be prom king, or at least feel what it's like to be prom king. Hader nails it, challenging the same I-just-wanna-be-cool vibe he played so brilliantly in Superbad.
Earl Devereaux - Every time this character back flipped (literally) into the frame I smiled. Casting Mr. T to play the loving-yet-pathological town policeman could give Don Rickles' Mr. Potato Head a run for it's money as one of the great voice overs EVER.
This is a story with a host of great messages. Be original. Failure is just part of the road to success. Loving yourself is more important than being loved for the wrong reasons by others. Too much of anything is never a good thing.
But there were some problems.
Rat birds. Perhaps the most disturbing bad idea to come along in quite a while. "Why would you do that? That's just weird dude". Direct quote from my daughter.
Overly caffeinated animators. The amount of movement on screen is off the charts, combined with a brighter than bright color palette and I found myself wishing for an aroma therapy candle and a Tylenol. I can't imagine what the 3D version is like.
Hmmmmmm. Errrr. How do I put this. Uhhhh. ANAL IMAGERY!!!!! Jesus Christ I felt like I was trapped in a Robert Mapplethorpe cartoon. Way too much anal imagery for me to really handle with my eight and six year-olds present. Scratch that. Way too much anal imagery, period.
Yes, it's better than many other children's films out there now; but does the world really need hyper leading men, binge eating villains, and a sphincter out to destroy the world?
Yesterday was momentous day for our family. After an endless month of pain, the Count Jr. finally received his back brace. As I posted earlier, the little man has a benign growth on his T7 vertebrae. We discovered the vertebrae had also cracked as a result of the pressure caused by the growth. It has been an agonizing few weeks for the Count and me. Seeing your child in prolonged pain is fresh Hell indeed.
Coming home from the doctors office I informed Count Jr. that he could have anything he wanted for dinner.
"Corn dogs!" he chirped.
"No."
"Pizza!" he cheered.
"It has to be something I can cook at home." I'm such a buzz kill.
He thought for a moment before replying, "meatloaf."
"Okay."
"Yeah Mom, you make the best meatloaf." Mom's heart melts.
And if I do say so myself it is some pretty damn good meatloaf. For those of you also participating in the Raising Foodies Online Cooking Club, this is my submission for Week One. Yes, I know I am supposed to cook something new but on this day what the Count Jr. wanted, the Count Jr. got.
My recipe is a slightly tweaked version of Bill Blass' Meatloaf recipe featured in a wonderful cookbook written by Molly O'Neill titled New York Cookbook. This is one of my favorite cookbooks as it shares fascinating and funny stories about the infinite variety cuisines and cultures that really sets New York apart from anywhere else in the world.
Enjoy.
The Countess' Slightly Tweaked Version of Bill Blass' Meatloaf
1 cup chopped celery 1 chopped onion 3 tablespoons butter 2 pound ground beef 1/2 pound ground veal 1/2 ground pork 1/2 chopped fresh parsley 1/3 cup of sour cream 1/2 cup breadcrumbs Pinch of dried thyme Pinch of dried marjoram 3/4 tablespoon of kosher salt (or o taste) 1/2 teaspoon of black pepper 1 egg 1 tablespoon of Worcestershire sauce 3/4 cup of Heinz chili sauce
1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Oil a 8X4 inch loaf pan.
2. Melt the butter in a heavy skillet over medium heat. Add the chopped onion and celery and saute until soft. Remove from heat and set aside to cool.
3. In a small bowl, lightly beat the egg and Worcestershire sauce. Set aside.
4. In a large bowl add the meats, parsley, sour cream, bread crumbs, thyme, marjoram, salt and pepper, sauteed onion and celery, and egg mixture. Work with your hands until combined.
5. Transfer the mixture into the loaf pan and again using your hands form into a loaf shape.
6. Pour the chili sauce over the top.
7. Place the loaf pan on a jelly roll pan or rimmed cookie sheet and bake for 1 hour.
Served with mashes potatoes and a nice green vegetable, this is the quintessential family dinner.
Let's imagine that one of the dozen or so folks who looks at this insanely witty blog-o-mine is actually a front for Oprah's Harpo Productions. Unable to contain themselves any longer, they storm into Oprah's dressing room just as Reggie is doing her make-up.
"Good God Oprah please give this woman a show!"
Oprah reads the famous missing panties post and does just that. Frankly, the show is brilliant. During season one Eddie Ross redecorates my house using only a hot glue gun, a Sharpie pen, and items purchased at Dairy Barn; I am "styled" by Rachel (I DIE) Zoe who after looking at my closet decides that Land's End polo shirts are INSANE; I bitch slap Glenn Beck on-air, who later donates all his wealth to Planned Parenthood, the Boys and Girls Club, the Innocence Project, and the University of Maine (go Black Bears!) in my honor; and spend an entire episode making out with Don Draper (sorry honey!!). I am of course nominated for the Emmy.
The past week has been crisis time here at the castle. Phone calls and visits with doctors, meetings with teachers, and fielding questions from curious and concerned parents and friends has dominated nearly every waking hour of the past nine days. Add to that the sad news that my best friends Dad past away early yesterday morning.
"How are you doing?" is a question I've been asked over and over again.
The answer is, "Pretty good actually".
I thought about that the other night, why I'm okay and why others faced with these issues would "be hitting the breakfast wine" as my friend Mary so perfectly puts it. Yes part of it is my personality, part of it is that my role as a Mom forces me to Keep Calm and Carry On, and part of it is that I am blessed with an amazing group of friends ready to help, a terrific husband, and family that is always at the ready. My husband's family lives on the west coast, and they have been wonderful in sending gifts for the kids and calling regularly. Each of them plays a huge role in keeping us all afloat during this challenging time. But I will share with you a few tips that make getting through tough times a little easier.
1. Have a mechanism to collect random thoughts with you at all times. It does not matter if it's a Blackberry or a notepad that fits in your pocket. When your mind is racing you need a reliable place to catch random details like - milk - pickup dry cleaning - call Sue - Q-tips - permission slip- bone scan.
2. If you can't stick to any kind of a housework routine, just make the beds.
3. Use a delivery service for your groceries.
4. Set aside a specific time to deal with updates to friends and loved ones via phone and email. Outside of that time, be ruthless about screening your calls.
5. If you need time alone, find it by getting up earlier rather than staying up later. You need all the energy you can, so if possible, go to bed earlier than usual.
6. Eat as healthy as you can.
7. Keep meal times and routines as normal as possible. Even if you are eating take out, serve it on plates and try to stick to as many mealtime rituals as possible. This is a great comfort to the little people.
8. Have a news blackout. Watching another segment about how screwed up our government is or the drug deal that went bad leaving 3 dead including a 3 year-old boy is not going to help much.
9. Indulge in a guilty pleasure - and I don't mean the aforementioned breakfast wine. From 2:00 - 2:35 today I will be folding laundry while watching the Young and the Restless on DVR (no time for commercials).
10. Avoid alcohol. In a crisis you need to be sharp, not buzzed. While in crisis mode many of us forget to eat or just snack and that can really ramp up the affects of alcohol. Tuesday night I had a glass of red wine before dinner, my husband topped it off for dinner, and I fell sound asleep while reading stories to the kids. Not good.
I won't kid you, making the bed won't solve a single problem, but that single bit of order and calm might make you sleep better to face the whatever tomorrow holds.
On September 11th 2001 my husband and I were living in NYC. Our daughter was just six months old. At the request of some college friends, I put my experiences on and around Sept. 11th on paper to share with others who lived far away. Below is what I wrote a week or so following September 11th. It's been a long, long time since I read this, but it evokes such strong memories and emotions for me. I ask that if you read this you give a moment of silence to Stephen Frazer, a guy I never met but who for me still embodies the sheer magnitude of random, thoughtless, pointless loss that was September 11th.
If you've seen every bit of TV footage, or read 'till you cried, you'll have to indulge one more New Yorker reflecting on the Tuesday, Sept. 11th attack on the WorldTradeCenter.
My daughter and I were headed to our pediatrician Tuesday morning when sirens rang out from everywhere.A decade in Manhattan has reduced sirens to background noise, like music in a restaurant.But this was an explosion of noise that made me get up, go to my window, look down on the streets and the frenzy of emergency vehicles heading south and wonder, "what the hell just happened?"
I didn't turn on the TV until my best friend called.I stared at the screen in disbelief, both Towers already burning.The voice on the phone works just four blocks from the WorldTradeCenter.She was a little frantic, but thankfully she was in her apartment, worried about her colleagues.
When my friend raised the possibility of collapse I said, "the Towers won't collapse".I said it with absolute certainty, never imagining that 30 minutes later I'd be proven so wrong.When the first tower collapsed, I saw it on TV via an aerial shot from due south.The Channel 2 anchors and I thought it was another huge explosion.Then I saw something through the smoke that I'll never ever forget, the sunlight reflecting off the slanted roof of the Citicorp building on 50th Street.Next I made out the silhouette of the ChryslerBuilding and realized that the Tower, which in a sane world would be blocking that view, was no longer there.
"It's gone, it's gone, it's gone".That's all the came out of the television.
My husband arrived home just after the first Tower collapsed.He had left work to go to our daughters' six-month checkup when thousands of people started pouring out of the subways and buses.A stranger told him what happened.Grasping for something normal and planned, we headed to our pediatricians' office next door.On the corner of Second Avenue people were already gathering to look south.
"You can't see it?",I asked.
"Oh yes you can", my husband answered.
Sure enough, an enormous cloud of smoke loomed downtown and was winding its way up Second Avenue.I turned and went to the doctors.The second Tower collapsed while daughter got her shots.Within an hour fighter planes were circling the city.I was never more aware of living between the EmpireStateBuilding and the United Nations.The former now once again reigning as the tallest building in NYC.
Meanwhile, at my office on 4th Street and Broadway, co-workers had grabbed binoculars and ran to the roof garden.From a birds' eye view enhanced with state-of-the-art optics, they witnessed a scene of helplessness and horror that I can't even begin to imagine.Two nearly fainted after looking through their lens for only a few moments.Another watched the first tower collapse and wondered if her father made it out, another wondered if her father, brother, and boyfriend did the same.They did.
Now that the frenzy has ended, New York City is just a city in mourning.There will be no miracle rescues on the six-o'clock news.We've all hunkered down for a fall filled with memorials and grim discoveries.All the tip toeing and solemnity has brought a silence to this city so eerie and unnatural I almost yearn for a few more honking horns.Instead I get sirens coming from Ground Zero.The typical New Yorker prides his/herself on being tough, insular and self-sufficient, characteristics that make September 11th and its aftermath of that much harder to bear.Perhaps that's what God intended.Perhaps our sudden, enormous need for help from any and all who offer make us seem a little more human and a little less "New Yorker" than before.
In the end it's all about a guy named Stephen Frazer and the thousands of others like him. He's young, handsome, in his thirties.Stephen has a wife named Suzan with a 'z' and a child.He worked at AON in WorldTradeCenter.I was introduced to Stephen via many flyers posted in my neighborhood.Scarcely a day goes by that I don't run into Stephen, at the bus stop, pasted to a phone booth or on the hospital wall alongside hundreds of others flyers.Suzan with a 'z' leaves her number and begs you to call if you have any information on her beloved Stephen.The flyer has two color pictures on it; in one Stephan is sitting on a couch in a T-shirt and wire rims, in the other he's feeding his baby.He hasn't bothered to change out of his office clothes, something my husband often forgets too.Looking straight at the camera and wearing no glasses, he's holding a baby spoon and smiling the purest, happiest, goofiest new-dad smile you'll ever see.The baby covered with strained carrots (or perhaps sweet potato) will grow up without a single memory of him, and it will take Suzan a lifetime to explain to that baby just how wonderful his/her father was.One day I'm going to take one of his flyers down and put it in my purse, before someone else takes him down and he's lost again.
Five years ago I worked a few weeks at the WorldTradeCenter.I don't know exactly which floor I worked on, but I know I was high enough up that I could lean my head against the glass and look down at the helicopters flying beneath me.I loved that.
I learned a new word yesterday - Eosinophilic Granuloma.
I learned that my six year-old sons back doesn't have an injury like his Dad and I thought, it has a growth. The doctors believe that the name of this growth is Eosinophilic Granuloma.
I learned this growth is benign, and will eventually disappear and the bones impacted by it will heal themselves.
I learned that while New York certainly has its problems, we New Yorkers are pretty damn good at treating the sick. Kevin will be treated by a top Pediatric Orthopedist at the renowned Hospital for Special Surgery. I don't even have to venture into Manhattan with him, there is a satellite office about 20 minutes from my house. To nail down the pathology of this growth, we will head to Sloan Kettering - also world renowned. So while this a big hurdle for us for sure, we are blessed to have the best of the best in their fields working to get my little man through this in tip top shape.
But in the meantime, there will be pain. To relieve this pain, there will be a brace on his back. The brace will be worn for upwards of two years. Picturing my son body surfing on the waves of Atlantic Beach, I still can't get a picture in my head of what exactly this will look like.
In the meantime he is off his feet, no school, no gym, no running, no twisting, no jumping, no lifting, no going to the Welcome Back Picnic tonight at his elementary school. None of the things that children do with great joy and abandon.
So it turns out that Mom and Dad learned a whole hell of a lot of new stuff this week too.
