Uppercase Woman

MotherTalk Blogging Book Tour: Only Child

Today as part of MotherTalk's blogging book tours I'm reviewing the book Only Child: Writers on the Singular Joys and Solitary Sorrows of Growing Up Solo. I thought I'd be a good candidate to review this book since I am an only child, married to an only child, and the parent of an only child.

Interestingly, however, Charlie, Tori and I are actually only children technically and by default. I have three younger half-siblings that I didn't meet until I was 18 and wasn't (obviously) raised with, Charlie had an older sister that lived for only a few days (whom Tori is named after, and was a victim of thalidomide) and Tori, of course, has her two older brothers who didn't survive.

However, we all grew up alone (Tori is currently), without siblings, as the sole bearers of our parents love and mistakes.

This book is a collection of essays by writers who are also only children. Most are "true" only children, although a few are children that lost siblings. The vast majority were raised by two parents that were financially very well off. The essays seem to be split fairly evenly between those that wanted siblings and those that didn't.

I wasn't able to quite bring myself to finish the book. Why? Well, frankly, I wasn't finding myself in these stories at all. Many mentions were made of the "triangle" being one of the most stable shapes (a child and two parents) and frankly, as an only child raised by a single mother (I only found one story, the essay by Amy Richards, about being raised by a single parent), well, what does that make me family? A straight line? A pole?

While the essays are all compelling and well written, they all have a kind of similarity that didn't bear any resemblance to my life at all: the oppressive and omnipotent parents that you became overly enmeshed with. Well, my mother was too busy scraping together a living and trying to find a way for us to survive for us to become truly enmeshed (not that we didn't try).

For me, while being an only child was a major factor of my childhood, I'm not sure it was THE major defining factor. Honestly, I didn't have much in the way of toys to gloat about not having to share, you know? We were just too poor. I'm not sure that it impacted my adulthood more than the poverty did. Or not having a television did. Or not having a father did.

The one thing I remember about being an only child is having imaginary friends, friends that were with me right up until I was 12 or 13 (and not having a television probably had an influence there too). And only one essay I read mentioned imaginary friends, and that made me sad--I thought all us onlys had those.

If you were an only child raised by two parents--particularly if you were raised in New York City (this book is VERY heavy on NYC only kids), you might enjoy this book more than I did. Otherwise, I think I might skip it if your only child experience was more like mine. If I wasn't planning on donating my copy to my local library, I would hold on to it for Tori, though; I could see her getting just a tad enmeshed with us... :)

Juno, or why adoption isn't cute

So it seems like every movie I've gone to see lately has been morbidly depressing. I Am Legend was horribly sad (I know, I just didn't expect that); Atonement, of course, I knew would be, but it was so much tougher than I thought (plus now I'm having nightmares about drowning in subway tunnels). I saw P.S. I Love You which was a MUCH better movie than it had a right to be (and a MUCH better movie than book--the book was awful, I couldn't even finish it--) but still--sad (Hilary Swank was horribly miscast, but did ok anyway).

So, when my mom was desperate for some Tori time this weekend and Charlie and I reviewed our movie options, he was excited to see Juno. This isn't shocking--the reviews are crazy good--but I was feeling pretty full of trepidation. I've read a lot about it; between reading about the very interesting woman that wrote it, and reading the stories of women that have been through similar experiences, and the stories of women that have adopted children, I wasn't sure I was up for a comedy about adoption. Because in the last four years that I've been reading blogs by women who were going through the adoption process, the one thing that has been clear to me is that IT IS NOT FUCKING FUNNY.

But we went.

Ten minutes into the movie it was clear that it was going to be cute. And by cute I mean over-the-top aren't we so fucking clever cute. The dialog was witty, snappy, and utterly and completely unbelievable--there is not a single teenager on the planet that talks the way Juno does. But still, I always enjoy hearing words put together well, so I was able to enjoy that aspect of the movie.

It was my understanding that abortion wasn't discussed at all in the movie, but that's not true. In fact, the first thing Juno does is call someone "to procure a hasty abortion." But she changes her mind because the baby has fingernails. For the first couple of days after I saw the movie I did not see this as an anti-choice movie--I thought, basically, that Juno was presented a choice and made a choice (and hey--I am ALL about choice). But now, after a few days away from the cuteness, I feel like it's actually a damned sly anti-choice statement--and that kind of pisses me off. Not only because of the whole "fingernails" thing, but because the whole movie makes the process of adoption look so easy and simple. Ug.

Anyway. Throughout the movie, I couldn't stop thinking about Kateri, a birth mom, and about this post (warning--tough read if you are an adoptive mom), were she talks about being:

"De-mothered. No one’s mother. Hit the reset button, reboot and start again. Motherhood erased. That’s how it was supposed to be."

It wasn't until nearly four years later that she felt the full pain of her choice:

"The anesthetic had worn off, and I was raw, naked, freshly separated. My body unleashed the primal force of loss so that I could not speak, I could not make a sound. I could not sob. I could not think. The hall of mirrors collapsed in shards stained with the blood of my psyche. Within a month I was suicidal."

In the last moments of the movie, this was all I could think about. Juno is happily playing guitar, her life is fine, and the baby is happy. All is well. Right?

I also couldn't help but think about Dawn and her experiences with her daughter and what she refers to as the "primal wound" her daughter suffered from leaving her birth mother. Now, Dawn has one of the best open adoption stories I've heard of, and it's clear that her daughter is wildly loved and loves in return (I know this because I got to meet them), yet she still talks about how much loss her daughter feels:

“When you were a little tiny baby,” I said and her sobbing quieted but she was still choking on the tears that kept running down her face. “When you were first born you stayed with Jessica in the hospital for three days. And then you came home to us and Madison, you were very sad then. Sometimes you cried a lot. I think it’s because you missed Jessica so much.”

It was like … I wish I could show you the look on her face. The floodgates opened back up but she had such … relief on her face. She was still crying, mind you. She cried for more than 45 minutes.

“It must have been scary for you,” I said. “You didn’t know me. You didn’t know Daddy. You didn’t know Noah. And you missed Jessica. You wondered where she was. I know she missed you, too, you have really missed each other.”

So, sure, in the movie the baby was in a good and loving home. I mean, my heart was with Jennifer Garner's character as the infertile mother throughout the movie (oh, she was perfect, I tell you). But I could not set all of my second-hand knowledge aside and just enjoy this movie. I worry, too, that all those teenage girls there in the theater with us, the ones that giggled as I wept when Jennifer Garner's character got down on her hands and knees at the mall to feel the baby move in Juno's belly, that all those girls will now have taken a big old swallow of the "adoption kool-aid" as Kateri calls it. That if they end up pregnant they will think it is just that easy; Juno at one point says she just wants to "squirt the kid out and get on with her life."

If only it were that easy. So, kids, view with caution. For normal people this movie may be light fare. For the rest of us? Not so much.

Television Women

So, the writer's strike continues (go writers!) and television is becoming more and more of a wasteland. But there has been an odd side effect to the strike, I think. Shows that might have normally been canceled after a few episodes are being allowed a slightly longer run, and the interesting theme that ties some of those shows together? Women.

I've just watched the first three episodes of Cashmere Mafia (I had them all DVRed; I no longer watch TV when it actually airs) and while it has some huge, gaping problems I have to say I cannot remember the last time a network television show revolved around four women. Can you? Not only four women, but four women who met in business school and are all wildly successful in their careers. So name me the last time that any show centered on four smart successful women aired on network television.
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Yeah, I can't think of it either. While I find myself wishing that the women were more like, well, anyone normal frankly--they are a singular unique entity, the New York City urban business woman, something that is hardly reflective of the rest of use women--I do think the show manages to escape some traps it could easily fall into, and the acting isn't too bad and the writing is actually pretty good (of course they are all white, with the exception of Lucy Liu, so that's another problem too). If it could just release the Sex & The City chains that are dragging it down I think it could be a really good show. I love watching women making deals, and calling men on their shit, and this show dedicates a lot of time to that. There's also a lot of makeup and fluff--and I find the whining about demanding nannies and incompetent assistants dull--but what can you do. The additional fact that the show is willing to allow a character to explore a lesbian relationship in a shockingly realistic way is pretty cool too.

...

Now, in the "wildly successful" column (as opposed to the 'only on the air because we have nothing else' column) falls the new show based on the Terminator movies, The Sarah Connor Chronicles. I'm sure you saw it if your TV was on when it was on, because some ridiculously astronomical number of people watched the show (I think I heard 34 million). The show basically covers the territory between the second and third movies--when Sarah is free and in hiding and protecting her son John from the machines from the future (we know that she dies eventually thanks to the third movie, and they pull no punches about that in the show).

Now, I freely admit that I am a sci-fiction geek to the extreme (I love the movie the 5th Element--no, I really really do), so I'm pretty easy to please. But they made some truly smart decisions about this show, particularly about the casting. Sarah Connor is played by Lena Heady, a fairly accomplished actress who manages to convey the fragility of her love for her son perfectly, but also manages to be tough and true and strong without the bulked out artificialness of Linda Hamilton in the second movie (which I actually liked). John Connor is played quite well by the young man that played Zach on Heroes.

But by far the best casting choice was the use the lovely and amazing Summer Glau of Firefly/Serenity fame. She's playing the "good" terminator, the one sent back to protect young John. She kicks butt most elegantly, and she manages to look like an actual robot while she does it. It's awesome.

The writing is surprisingly tight and compelling, the show captivated both me and Charlie and it is MUCH HARDER to get Charlie to buy into a sci-fi world than it is me (I'll fall for anything). I really enjoyed it and I am so glad to see it, to see more tough strong women doing what they need to; saving the world. Oh yeah.

The only real issue I have with the show is the truly disgusting and misogynist image they are using to promote the show featuring Summer's armless and topless torso. Ick. Memo to Fox and all other idiots that promote science fiction: WOMEN WATCH TOO. STOP USING SEXIST IMAGES AND YOU WILL SELL MORE/GET MORE VIEWERS.

...

Other than that, I enjoyed watching the first two episodes of American Idol. And if you ever wanted to know why I stopped hosting poetry readings here in Philadelphia? It's because of this; all those crazy people that auditioned? THEY WRITE POEMS TOO.

MotherTalk Book Tour: The Daring Book for Girls

I didn't take part in the kerfuffle about the Dangerous Book for Boys when it came out, but I couldn't help feel a twinge of "why is it just for boys???" irritation, even though all of the reviews were positively gushing about the books fabulousness. OK, maybe it was more of a serious feminist flare than a twinge. When I looked at the book and couldn't see a single thing in there that girls couldn't do.

However. That was before Andi Buchanan and Miriam Peskowitz (both Philly authors so they are my neighbors--holla! OK, I can't believe I just typed that) wrote the amazing, the fantastic, the beautiful, the wondrous, the absolutely fucking perfect The Daring Book for Girls, which I am blessed to be reviewing for MotherTalk.*

Oh, how I love this book. From the sparkly NOT PINK cover (bless you, authors, for that) to the retro-layout (it's very much like the old Girl Scout handbook of my youth, and I am not the first person to note that) to the magnificent content, you must--MUST--plan to purchase this book during your Christmas shopping for any girl on your list.

I knew I was going to love this book when I turned to the section about hiking and the authors not only discussed the basics (animal tracks, how to find a trail head) and poison ivy. They also included a photograph of the plant that works as a natural antidote to poison ivy (jewelweed; it also works wonderfully for stinging nettle burns).

But it's the sections on slumber party games and jump rope rhymes that makes it a book for girls. But it doesn't stop there. There are also math tricks, instruction on how to paddle a canoe, how to build a scooter (like, from wood), how to do a two-fingered whistle (a skill I personally learned in Girl Scouts), and so many more cool things that I wish I were ten again and could do them all. It's just chock-full of awesomeness.

Just reading this book makes me feel happy and relaxed. I find myself picking it up and reading it again and again and discovering new charming sections that I didn't notice previously. I can barely put it down. I can't wait to buy copies for girls I know this Christmas! It's just such an original (OK, so the boy's book was first, WHATever), quirky, cool book. I adore it. Seriously love it. Can you tell?

*I have chosen to not be paid for my review. OK, I don't want to violate my contract with BlogHerAds. Heh. I'm declining the standard gift certificate, and donating my copy of the book to my local library. Just so you know.

Sexism, TV, and I'm Glad I Live in This Era (even with George Bush)

Lately Charlie and I have been scouring the bottom of the barrel for stuff to watch on TV (ah, summer), and as a result have become fans of the new AMC show Mad Men. The show had created a lot of buzz (particularly on NPR--you could practically hear the cream hitting the jeans during the reviews). I thought I'd missed it, but thanks to the advent of our cable's "on demand" service, we've been able to watch the show from the beginning.

Charlie has always been fascinating by other eras, and Mad Men perfectly captures the officeplace of the late 1950's in Manhattan--and since Charlie's parents met in a very similar situation (finance, though, not advertising), he's riveted by the show. There are some very funny moments--in one scene, two kids are playing and one little girl is wearing a dry cleaning bag. Upon seeing this her mother calls her over and says, "Missy, if the dry cleaning that was in that bag is all over the closet floor, you are in serious trouble." Then she sends her off to go suffocate (ok, the little girl doesn't suffocate, but you get my meaning). It really reflects the many changes in attitudes over the last 50 years.

I like the show as well, but sometimes it can be a bit hard to take. First off, the smoking... oh my god, no television show or movie has made me want to start smoking again more (it's been over nine years since I quit). Lord, do they ever smoke (as EVERYONE did back then). Secondly, the drinking. On the second episode one of the characters sips his drink and then glances at his glass and says, "There you are." I could practically taste it. It's amazing these people have time to eat what with the drink in one hand and the cigarette in the other.

But the biggest problem I have with the show is the fucking sexism. It's not being deliberately misogynistic--not at all. It is merely accurately portraying what it was like for women at that time in history. It is damned painful to watch as the women are belittled, harassed, and betrayed routinely. In the second episode, the wife of the main character goes to a psychiatrist due to "nerves" (she has a lot of anxiety about things like, oh, her husband cheating on her). After her first appointment, her husband calls the psychiatrist to discuss her case. Ye gods.

Watching the show has led to some interesting discussions between Charlie and I. Because of his fascination with past eras (particularly the 1930's and 40's), he often feels he was born at the wrong time. He was genuinely surprised when I said that there is no other era in which I would want to be a woman than the one I'm in now--in fact, I wouldn't mind being a woman 50 years from now if the trends of the last thirty years continued (the last eight years notwithstanding). I know that I have had it better than my mother did, and Tori will have it even better than I did (God willing).

Charlie actually tried to argue the point with me a bit. But for God's sake--it's been less than 100 years since we've been allowed to vote. My grandmother had to quit her successful teaching career to raise her kids (although she returned to it later). My mother had difficulty opening a checking account after her divorce (in 1970) without a signature from either her husband or father. In eight grade, I was told by my (female) teacher that I was breaking the law by having my mother's maiden name and not my father's name (she was very, very wrong). When I took Driver's Ed in high school (in 1984),  my teacher (a man) told us matter-of-factly that women were terrible drivers. Until the Clarence Thomas senate confirmation hearings, no one talked about sexual harassment, except to dismiss it as being "no big deal." Sexism has still been alive and thriving in my lifetime.

It's funny to me that Sarah's daughter, who is 11 now, will have little sense of this (although body facism has gotten worse for her, I think--but that's another entry). This is even more true for Tori. What's even more amazing is that there is a chance that Tori will never know a world that didn't have a female president of the United States. Can you imagine? I mean, my mother told me that I could become president when I grew up--but Tori might actually believe it.

Of course, the issues surrounding choice in the last ten years have set us back considerably. After all, they are now trying to pass laws demanding that the biological father of a child has to give permission for a pregnancy termination. While on the face of it that might not sound so bad; but imagine if Charlie were a different man and insisted that his son's life was of more value than mine and refused to give permission to terminate my pregnancy with the twins? Well, I sure as hell wouldn't be writing this entry today, now would I?

I'm hardly happy with the current status of women's rights; I mean, I would have LOVED the Equal Rights Amendment to pass back in 1983.  I would feel much better about the world Tori is going to grow up in if that had become law. But even so, I'm so glad I wasn't born in an earlier, more restrictive era. I mean, after all, think of the trouble I would have gotten into back then!

Blog Book Tour: Maximum Ride #3

I must be in a reviewing mood lately. Heh. I'm part of the MotherTalk blog book tour for the new young adult fantasy novel by James Patterson called Maximum Ride #3. When I saw the email asking for reviewers and it said "young adult novel, kids that can fly" and I was all like, excellent!

See, I love young adult fantasy novels. I routinely check one or two out at the library on each library trip. This shouldn't come as a shock to anyone--I mostly read fantasy or supernatural novels, whether they fall into the young adult, mystery, or even the romance genres. I love 'em all.

So it was with great excitement that I tackled this novel. I mean, all the elements are there--kids that can fly (they are bird-human hybrids); they are on the run from the 'man'; there is burgeoning romance; and they take on a big, evil corporation. What's not to like?

Turns out, for me, plenty.

It was difficult, at first, for me to put my finger on exactly what is wrong with this novel. The first thing that leaped out to me was that I couldn't tell whether the main character, Max, was male or female for quite a while. That clued me in to the fact that James Patterson has trouble writing female characters (I noticed this in the one other book I've read by him). Eventually she displayed some "nurturing" tendencies to make her femaleness obvious.

Ug.

Additionally, the main character commonly breaks the fourth wall and talks to the reader. This is not set up in anyway to make sense--such as, the book is a diary or journal left somewhere deliberately for someone to find and read. No, the main character just talks to the reader randomly throughout the book. It is distracting and completely derails the plot each time it happens. And it happens constantly.

Lastly, one of the other characters has a blog. It bothers me; not, obviously, the idea of blogging itself, but because it feels like it's completely pandering to the media's idea of kids today. Like, Mr. Patterson said to himself, "Hmmm... I hear that teenagers today are into that weird thing 'blogging'... better put it in the next book!" It's just plopped in as an awkward plot device without there being any sense of what blogging is really about. I guess I should feel grateful that he left out Myspace (in fact, the absence of Myspace seems almost deliberate--like Mr. Patterson thought about it and discarded the idea because of the negative press around Myspace these days).

According the information that arrived with the book, this series is popular (you know it's a series, by the way, because on page 10 you are admonished by the main character for not having read the other books). It's clear that they are hoping to target the audience that is now bereft (sob!) without Harry Potter.

Having just finished the last Potter book (sigh...) last night (read it in 24 hours!), I've been thinking about why J. K. Rowling's books work for me when Maximum Ride didn't. Part of it is the fact that Ms. Rowling constructs better sentences (although I agree with many that she could use a heavier editing hand), but the most obvious element is the kids themselves. They are just more believable and more present in the Potter books. There is an emotional distance to the characters in Maximum Ride that makes it hard to really invest yourself in them (although less so with the male character Fang--he's much more believable).

Also, I think that while the last Harry Potter book is incredibly violent (ah, the deaths killed me in the last one), having magic softens the blow to some extent. In Maximum Ride, there is no magic--just genetic manipulation--and the violence seems much more cruel. Actually, as I write this, I realize that the difference in the perception of the violence is that in the Potter books it's clear that Harry and his friends are all fighting for the greater good of the world; in Maximum Ride, the kids are fighting merely for their survival alone--and that seems much more stark and harsh.

I won't be reading the other Maximum Ride books. There are so many other amazing young adult novelists out there--I mean, come on!--that could better fill Potter's shoes. I hope that kids and parents take some time to explore and find them. One great candidate is the Philip Pullman trilogy that starts with The Golden Compass. I read these books years ago and they are simply marvelous--and I just saw the new trailer for the movie and it looks AMAZING. Much better choice!

I'll be checking out the other reviews to see what other moms thought, especially those that read it with their kids. If you've read it, I'd love to hear your thoughts. What other young adult novels do you love?

Hairspray

Yesterday I was feeling a bit wiggy (thanks menstruation!) and Charlie was sweet enough to kick me out of the house send me out to spend some time by myself. I decided to go check out the new movie version of the musical version of the movie Hairspray.

Did you follow all that?

I'm sure you all know the history--many moons ago (1998) the wacky and wonderful John Waters decided to change his ways and make a "mainstream" movie. After a fascinating career that included highlights like "Pink Flamingos" and "Female Trouble" he mellowed out (and left out things like recreational incest and poop eating) and created the absolutely delightful and fantastically subversive original movie of Hairspray.

Why was it subversive? Well, not because he used the fab drag queen Divine to play the mother of the main character-- although that WAS pretty fucking cool. No, it was subversive because the fat girl kicks ass and gets fame, fortune, AND the hot guy.

I absolutely and utterly LOVE the first movie. Seriously. It's one of my favorites, and when it comes on, I have to watch it. I love every little silly moment in it from Link dragging himself on stage to dance with broken knees that magically heal to Blondie's exploding wig. It's a masterpiece with an awesome soundtrack, a perfect commentary on the racial tensions in the mid-sixties, and--best of all--teenage love and self-discovery.

In the original movie, the role of Tracy Turnblad was played by the still-fat-at-the-time Ricki Lake. Sure, Ricki Lake isn't the world's best actress, but she brought a unique combination of self-confidence and ironic sexuality to the role that was just pure perfection. Best of all, Divine brought her massive personality down about ten notches to play the working-class laundress that is Tracy's mother Edna. It was a star turn by Divine, and he--oops, I mean she--was so dead-on that I never once thought about the fact that Divine had a penis (remember the scene where Tracy drags her into the hair salon? Was that not perfect?).

And that sexy love interest Link... ah, Link. The actor that played Link was so damned handsome that he was immediately cast in a movie to play the young Elvis--and rightly so (I'm sad to hear that he's left acting and is now a preacher that is unwilling to discuss his time as an actor). The scene where he makes out with Tracy in an alley is one of the best screen moments EVER (even with the rats!).

The idea of the fat girl getting the handsome guy (and stealing him from a skinny blond, no less) was deeply appealing to this then fat and single girl back in 1988. I saw the movie in the theater more than once.

So, knowing all this, you can imagine my trepidation in seeing the musical version on the big screen. I read the reviews, and thought long and hard about it. There was one major thing that made me not want to go.

John fucking Travolta.

In drag. AND a fat suit.

In BAD drag. He looks AWFUL. Did you ever notice that his eyes were that close together before? I hadn't. Yuck, yuck, yuck. Just so fucking wrong. Not convinced? Here's Divine. And here. And this is John Revolting. Ug!

This was a major mistake in my opinion. The gag in the original movie was NOT that Tracy's mother was played by a man. It was that his mother was played by a DRAG QUEEN (a "naturally" fat drag queen, no less). NOT a man in drag. See the difference? It's a crucial one, and it why John Travolta was wrong, wrong, wrong for the role.

The saddest thing, of course, is that Harvey Fierstein won Tony after Tony for his portrayal of Edna Turnblad on Broadway. Harvey is alive and well (unlike Divine) and would have been exactly the right person to play the role--at least he's been in drag for years (off and on). But I guess he wasn't a big enough draw in by Hollywood standards, and of course John Travolta has been kicking himself for years for not taking the role of Billy Flynn in the latest movie version of Chicago, so there you go (ironically, I think John Travolta would have been a much better Billy Flynn than Richard Gere was with his awful machine-gun vibrato). John Travolta has said in interviews that he wanted to play Edna as if she was a woman and not a drag queen, and when I heard that I thought "Gee, why the fuck didn't they cast a fat woman for the role then?" The whole POINT is that she's a drag queen, for fuck's sake.

Ug. But, I had a free afternoon and only one movie was scheduled right during Tori's nap. So off I went.

First off, I was stunned--no, knocked over--wait, I mean blown away immediately by the lovely young woman playing Tracy Turnblad. This 4' 10" tall stunner was so cute, so adorable, and so sweet as Tracy that I just couldn't help but love her. She is so graceful and light on her feet you would think she was wearing a fat suit, but of course she's not. She is the perfect epitome of the idea of "fit and fat." She danced and danced and danced and did not look even remotely out of breath. I love, love, love her.

But she is all light to Ricki Lake's mildly dark, and I missed that darkness. But still--I would give her a big hug if I met her, and it deeply saddens me that right this very moment she is probably surrounded by people telling her that she can play the "fat best friend" if she just loses a few pounds.

Overall, everyone else in the movie was delightful, although Zac Efron was nowhere near as hot as Michael St. Gerard in the first movie. Michelle Pfieffer was great although she is scary thin--seriously, if she ate a couple of cheeseburgers she'd look about 15 years younger (don't these Hollywood people ever realize that fat plumps up wrinkles? I guess fatness is SO HORRIBLE that they would rather look OLD). And weird and wonderful Christopher Walken as Tracy's father was just about the only nod to John Waters in the whole movie. Last but not least, of course--you can NEVER go wrong with Queen Latifah. She was excellent as Motor-Mouth Mabel.

Oh--and the love scene between Edna and Wilbur Turnblad was so fucking surreal (we're talking Christopher Walken trying to woo John Travolta in drag--with SINGING AND DANCING) that it almost--ALMOST--made casting John Revolting acceptable.

While the movie was rolling, I was tapping my toes and feeling like dancing in the aisles--which is really all you can ask of a musical, right? But as the initial glow has faded, I find myself more and more seeing what was right in the first one and what was wrong and just off in this latest version (for instance, there was no cockroach dress in the musical--why oh why not?).

Mostly, I guess, I miss the subversive nature of the first one. The latest movie is just so light and fluffy! Instead of a toned-down Pink Flamingos it's a toned-up High School Musical. And that's just sad, and wrong--I mean, come ON. We're talking JOHN WATERS here, folks.

Did you see it? What did you think? Were you a fan of the original?

Baby Books

So, am I the last person alive to know about this marvelous book? We got it a bit ago and I've been meaning to write a post about it because it is JUST. THAT. AWESOME.

I love so many things about it; it's so lyrical, really just a sweet poem. I also LOVE the fact that it is not specific to biological children; it's just as suitable for fostered or adopted children (in my opinion--feel free to correct me if I'm wrong! Cause I know you will. Heh).

I really think it's a great book to spur discussions about nature and magic. At least I hope that's how Tori will react when she's older. I hope she doesn't say things like, "Arctic turns don't speak to eels!" because if there is anything I want Tori to NOT inherit from her dad, it is his complete and utter inability to suspend disbelief. I hope she gets my utter and complete gullibility instead (at least when it comes to all things fiction).

It's such a lovely, lovely story! I love the "tiny knees curled to chin" line, and the "washing your tiny hands" and the "whispered into your curving ear, we're so glad you've come."

We read it to Tori all the time, and it makes both me and Charlie cry. In fact, Charlie will tear up while I'm reading it to Tori in another room (so perhaps he can suspend belief, after all).

That's a good book.

So, do you guys have a baby/kids book that rocks your world? Share! I need more. So many of the books out there are stupid, stupid, stupid. And I'm too lazy to write a full post today because I'm too busy working on my venture. :)