I was uncharacteristically dressed in a suit. WonderWife™ was in a dress. Our kids were many miles away, being spoiled by their grandparents. Not only was it a rare date night, but it was the wedding of our very good friends.
The ceremony was written by the groom himself and was one of the funniest and most heartfelt I’ve witnessed.
We overlooked the ocean as the sun set. Booze flowed freely. Instead of working the room separately, as WonderWife™ and I tend to do, we hung together and mingled as a couple.
It was WonderWife™ who notices the impeccably dressed man in the vest and the pocket square, but it was me who was caught staring at him.
I was pleasantly surprised when the sister of the groom remembered my name. Although the guy getting married was a prime member of my inner circle of friends, I had only met his sister a handful of times. Later I was able to grab a moment with my newly married friend and he told me that he had gone over his friends’ names with his sister earlier in the weekend.
“She kind of remembered you,” he said. “She said you were ‘the serious one’.”
The serious one? What does that mean? I spent the rest of the night trying to figure it out.
WonderWife™ was on the dance floor gettin’ down with a few of her friends. She saw me watching her from across the room and gestured for me to come over. When I did, she handed me our camera. I began taking pictures of the trio’s spastic dancing.
After a few shots were snapped, WonderWife™ pulled me close and said, “You idiot, I was just giving you the camera. I didn’t want you taking pictures of me dancing!”
Lamb had been barbecued. Bite sized bits of cheesecake were impaled on skewers and drowned in melted chocolate. Later, when the bar closed and the night wound down french fries and mac and cheese were passed, which I now believe is the only way that a wedding should end.
I watched as my friend absentmindedly played with the new ring on his finger as he drank in his bride from across the room. I took WonderWife’s™ hand in mine and hoped that they would be as happy as we were.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
The Performing Ushers
The movie theater that I frequent takes the moviegoing going experience very seriously. Just the way I like it. From the real butter on the popcorn to the assigned stadium seating to the fact that they won't let anyone in after the movie has started—so there's nobody walking in front of you during those crucial first few minutes, this is a modern movie palace seemingly custom designed for a movie geek like me. Watching a movie here is about as close to a pure experience as a multiplex will allow. Take, for example, what's on the screen before the movie.
Nothing. A blank screen.
Not a bunch of commercials. Not horribly outdated and easy movie "trivia". Nothing. When the show starts there are just three trailers. No annoying theater ads gently suggesting that you to buy a washtub of popcorn and a tanker of Coke before reminding you to turn off your cell phones. Nope. In this theater the ushers take center stage. Before lights go down, a spotlight is illuminated in front of the screen and an usher introduces the movie.
Before the show can start, there are a few key pieces of information that must be conveyed: the name of the movie, it's run time, a reminder that there should be no phones or texting, and please no putting your feet on the seat in front of you.
When the theater first opened, these speeches were very dry and technical. But because this is Los Angeles and this is an opportunity to perform, some of the ushers have developed routines in order to make the announcements more interesting.
Some tell jokes. Others offer wry observations about the movie. A few play to the crowd. Some of the ushers use different personas—the intellectual, the fanboy, the nervous nerd, the caffeinated cheerleader...
If the theater is fairly empty, an usher might try to strike up a conversation. In a theater composed of me and one other couple, as the usher got to the, "there's no talking in the movie" part, he pointed at me and said, "especially you, sir." When he remarked that I didn't respond to him, I reminded him that he had just asked me not to talk. A courtesy chuckle came from the other couple.
A few of the ushers have actually developed fans. It's not uncommon to hear their name being shouted out as they take the stage or vigorous cheering after their speeches. It doesn't seem like the patrons are doing this ironically either.
I've grown to look forward to these performances each time I see a movie there. And I see a lot of movies there. Instead of being bombarded with the same ad over and over, these performing ushers add a welcome dose of spontaneity and life to the moviegoing experience, which is something that you don't usually get at the multiplex.
Nothing. A blank screen.
Not a bunch of commercials. Not horribly outdated and easy movie "trivia". Nothing. When the show starts there are just three trailers. No annoying theater ads gently suggesting that you to buy a washtub of popcorn and a tanker of Coke before reminding you to turn off your cell phones. Nope. In this theater the ushers take center stage. Before lights go down, a spotlight is illuminated in front of the screen and an usher introduces the movie.
Before the show can start, there are a few key pieces of information that must be conveyed: the name of the movie, it's run time, a reminder that there should be no phones or texting, and please no putting your feet on the seat in front of you.
When the theater first opened, these speeches were very dry and technical. But because this is Los Angeles and this is an opportunity to perform, some of the ushers have developed routines in order to make the announcements more interesting.
Some tell jokes. Others offer wry observations about the movie. A few play to the crowd. Some of the ushers use different personas—the intellectual, the fanboy, the nervous nerd, the caffeinated cheerleader...
If the theater is fairly empty, an usher might try to strike up a conversation. In a theater composed of me and one other couple, as the usher got to the, "there's no talking in the movie" part, he pointed at me and said, "especially you, sir." When he remarked that I didn't respond to him, I reminded him that he had just asked me not to talk. A courtesy chuckle came from the other couple.
A few of the ushers have actually developed fans. It's not uncommon to hear their name being shouted out as they take the stage or vigorous cheering after their speeches. It doesn't seem like the patrons are doing this ironically either.
I've grown to look forward to these performances each time I see a movie there. And I see a lot of movies there. Instead of being bombarded with the same ad over and over, these performing ushers add a welcome dose of spontaneity and life to the moviegoing experience, which is something that you don't usually get at the multiplex.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Coda
The Bean clapped his hands to the beat in his head. "Guess what song I'm hearing," he said.
There was no possible way to discern the song from only the off-rhythm claps, so WonderWife™ began throwing out random guesses.
"Dust in the Wind?" she tried.
"Mommy, you have to pick songs that I know," said the Bean.
"I don't know. I give up. Tell me."
"Mommy, you don't give up. Don't give up like Daddy."
There was no possible way to discern the song from only the off-rhythm claps, so WonderWife™ began throwing out random guesses.
"Dust in the Wind?" she tried.
"Mommy, you have to pick songs that I know," said the Bean.
"I don't know. I give up. Tell me."
"Mommy, you don't give up. Don't give up like Daddy."
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Don't Give Up
“We were talking about Picasso today,” WonderWife™ said to me in front of the kids. “About how his drawings sometimes looked weird but he was still one of the most famous painters in the world.”
This was code that I deciphered immediately. The Bean had been struggling with drawing. He’d recently developed a burgeoning interest in art, but was getting frustrated when his drawings didn’t meet his exacting standards. This had led to a few McEnroe-style tantrums before he’d shut down and refuse to do the thing that he cannot.
Later that night the Bean and I had a chat.
“Do you know how you get good at anything?” I asked him.
“Practice?” he replied.
“Yes. And you can’t give up.” I sat on the edge of his bed and looked him in the eye. “I always wanted to play guitar for my whole life. One day I bought one, took a few lessons and started to practice. But I wanted to be better at it than I was. I got frustrated and quit. I never learned how to play guitar.”
“But you should learn. You shouldn’t have gave up. You should learn guitar.”
“It’s too late now,” I told him. “I have a busy job and you guys to look after.” And a blog to write and movies to watch and the occasional video game to play, I thought. “But you can learn from my mistake and when you get frustrated, stop and take a break, but don’t ever give up.”
The next night, as I lay in my favorite position on the couch—snuggled next to WonderWife™, Food Network on the tube—she said, “Do you know what the Bean’s takeaway was from your conversation last night?”
I smiled at the thought that my story might have gotten through to him. “No,” I said. “What?”
“He wants to learn how to play guitar.”
This was code that I deciphered immediately. The Bean had been struggling with drawing. He’d recently developed a burgeoning interest in art, but was getting frustrated when his drawings didn’t meet his exacting standards. This had led to a few McEnroe-style tantrums before he’d shut down and refuse to do the thing that he cannot.
Later that night the Bean and I had a chat.
“Do you know how you get good at anything?” I asked him.
“Practice?” he replied.
“Yes. And you can’t give up.” I sat on the edge of his bed and looked him in the eye. “I always wanted to play guitar for my whole life. One day I bought one, took a few lessons and started to practice. But I wanted to be better at it than I was. I got frustrated and quit. I never learned how to play guitar.”
“But you should learn. You shouldn’t have gave up. You should learn guitar.”
“It’s too late now,” I told him. “I have a busy job and you guys to look after.” And a blog to write and movies to watch and the occasional video game to play, I thought. “But you can learn from my mistake and when you get frustrated, stop and take a break, but don’t ever give up.”
_____________________________
I smiled at the thought that my story might have gotten through to him. “No,” I said. “What?”
“He wants to learn how to play guitar.”
Thursday, March 10, 2011
The Player
Word has it the Bean kissed a girl at school and then told her he loved her. His first kiss (as far as I know). I couldn't get any details out of him. He was rather coy about this when I asked, but I have it on good authority that this is exactly how it went down.
Later the same day day, the Bean said, “I love you” to another girl in his class. She replied with a curt yet polite, “thank you.”
I guess she saw the Bean kissing that other girl.
Later the same day day, the Bean said, “I love you” to another girl in his class. She replied with a curt yet polite, “thank you.”
I guess she saw the Bean kissing that other girl.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
In the Cushions of My Couch 2
The following is what was discovered in my couch while cleaning it...again:
One giant paperclip
One toy thermometer
One bristle block
Two hair clips
Two toy quarters
41 cents
Eight plastic marbles
One glass marble
Six socks, all mismatched
Two washcloths, cleanliness undetermined
One Matchbox car
Two toy drill bits
Once piece of bacon, plastic
One cheddar bunny, stale
One spider, glow in the dark
Two pens
Two glowsticks, expired
One board book
We really need to clean more often.
One giant paperclip
One toy thermometer
One bristle block
Two hair clips
Two toy quarters
41 cents
Eight plastic marbles
One glass marble
Six socks, all mismatched
Two washcloths, cleanliness undetermined
One Matchbox car
Two toy drill bits
Once piece of bacon, plastic
One cheddar bunny, stale
One spider, glow in the dark
Two pens
Two glowsticks, expired
One board book
We really need to clean more often.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Share a Story
Chris Singer over at BookDads has a series of posts for the Share a Story, Shape a Future program, which encourages kids to read.
We were asked to write about the "gift" we recieved from our kids' exposure to reading.
I'm honored to be amongst a great group of writers talking about an important subject. Please click over there and check it out.
We were asked to write about the "gift" we recieved from our kids' exposure to reading.
I'm honored to be amongst a great group of writers talking about an important subject. Please click over there and check it out.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Sprout and Her Bestie
There were two voices constantly emanating from the family room. Chatter, laughter and squeals of delight pierced the air while I tried to work in the other room. Sprout was having a play date.
It was one of those rare days where I was off of work on a weekday. Sprout’s best friend and her mother had come over. It was a rare glimpse into a world that I usually don’t see, but I know takes place—a familiar sight to any stay-at-home parent. The moms drank coffee and gossiped in the kitchen, while Sprout and her Bestie ran amok through the rest of the house. I hid in my study, trying to stay out of the way while attempting to be productive and spy on them at the same time.
Bestie had been the topic of much conversation around our house. Sprout was clearly taken with this girl and spoke of her often. I had met Bestie, and her mom, once before during one of those chaotic events where you never get to engage in an adult conversation that lasts beyond the opening pleasantries. But in reality all I knew of them was anecdotal. Listening to my daughter play with her best friend was something new, like the difference between seeing lions on safari and in a zoo.
Sprout can be incredibly charismatic and social...within the confines of our house. Most of the time in public she is shy and quiet. But with her Bestie by her side, Sprout was anything but. The two girls were rambunctious and giggly. They never stopped talking. They never stopped moving. I imagined this was a taste of Sprout's tween years, not 2 ½ year-olds playing together.
It was completely charming and made me wish that I got to spend more time at home, watching my kids in their natural habitat.
It was one of those rare days where I was off of work on a weekday. Sprout’s best friend and her mother had come over. It was a rare glimpse into a world that I usually don’t see, but I know takes place—a familiar sight to any stay-at-home parent. The moms drank coffee and gossiped in the kitchen, while Sprout and her Bestie ran amok through the rest of the house. I hid in my study, trying to stay out of the way while attempting to be productive and spy on them at the same time.
Bestie had been the topic of much conversation around our house. Sprout was clearly taken with this girl and spoke of her often. I had met Bestie, and her mom, once before during one of those chaotic events where you never get to engage in an adult conversation that lasts beyond the opening pleasantries. But in reality all I knew of them was anecdotal. Listening to my daughter play with her best friend was something new, like the difference between seeing lions on safari and in a zoo.
Sprout can be incredibly charismatic and social...within the confines of our house. Most of the time in public she is shy and quiet. But with her Bestie by her side, Sprout was anything but. The two girls were rambunctious and giggly. They never stopped talking. They never stopped moving. I imagined this was a taste of Sprout's tween years, not 2 ½ year-olds playing together.
It was completely charming and made me wish that I got to spend more time at home, watching my kids in their natural habitat.
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