: Riley, let me ask you this—would YOU think it was fun to be shoved into a box and have the lid closed over you?
Me: No, that’s why I made them let you out of the box.
: But you took a picture first. Ha ha, very funny, look at the kids harass the dog. You got problems.
Me: So, would this be a bad time to tell you I posted the picture online?
: You WHAT! Oh, hell no. You just wait. I’m going to go through your albums and find that dumb picture of you in high school. The one with the red jeans and big hair.
Me: I’d like to see you try and use the scanner.
: Oh, I know how to use a scanner. I watched Office Space with you. Remember? In the days before kids when I was allowed on the couch with you?
Me: You’re still allowed on the couch, as long as you don’t mind if the kids sit on top of you. And that scene from Office Space was a printer, not a scanner. And they weren’t using it.
Set in Montana, A Plumm Summer is about the Plumm family, a married couple with two boys, teenage Elliot and his younger brother, Rocky. Dad is on the verge of being a full-blown alcoholic, and Elliot feels it’s up to him look out for his family. One fateful day in the summer of 1968, Froggy Doo of the popular Happy Herb and Froggy Doo Show is kidnapped. Happy Herb is devastated by the loss of his beloved marionette, but what about the kids? Rocky just can’t live without his Froggy Doo. With the help of his friend Haley, Elliot and Rocky embark on the adventure of their lives trying to locate the lost marionette. Cast includes Henry Winkler as Happy Herb and William Baldwin as the alcoholic father.
A Plumm Summer is a feel-good, family friendly film. There’s a quirky humor to the hoopla being made over this missing marionette (don’t you dare call Froggy Doo a puppet!), complete with baffled FBI agents (Peter Scolari and Rick Overton). The movie addresses family issues without getting overly sentimental and the two young actors who portray the Plumm brothers, Chris J. Kelly and Owen Pearce, did a wonderful job.
Little cuties.
Henry Winkler as Happy Herb should immediately put a smile on the face of anyone who ever enjoyed watching Happy Days. He’s a consummate performer, hilarious as he goes about the stage as a wizard with his smart-talking frog, and then touching when he completely loses it after Froggy Doo turns up missing.
The real star of this movie, though, is the Montana setting. What a beautiful place. Director Caroline Zelder didn’t waste a single opportunity to use the sun-bathed hills and golden-leaved trees to evoke this bygone time when a little town got caught up in a missing marionette. Between the children riding bikes in the sunlight and the gorgeous shot of a full moon, the movie made me want to book that trip to Bozeman that’s been waiting patiently on my to-do list.
A Plumm Summer opens this weekend in select theatres. For a complete listing, check out the film’s website, www.APlummSummer.com.
It will make me really happy if you come see my movie.
Henry Winkler as Happy Herb, with Froggy Doo in A Plumm Summer, opening this weekend in select theatres.
(I got a sneak preview of it. Read the review here)
Last night, I went to the San Clemente Wine Company. On Fridays, they invite a winery to come in and do a tasting. Last night, it was the Bianchi Winery from Paso Robles. (They have a lovely Pinot Grigio, if you enjoy white wine.)
To add a bit of fun to the tasting, the winery poured the last tasting from a bottle covered with a brown bag and made us guess what kind of wine it was. If we guessed correctly, we received one more tasting of our choice.
Now, if you are like me, this probably doesn’t sound too exciting, because with all the wines out there, how are you really going to guess what kind it is? You can imagine my surprise when my answer, Petite Syrah, was correct. Especially when Husband, the wine aficionado of the two of us, guessed Cabernet Sauvignon. I wanted to gloat. I wanted to jump up and down and scream “I’m Number One.” But the truth is, it was a blind guess, aided by the fact that they offered tiny chocolates with the tasting. I happened to drink a late harvest petite syrah some time ago that tasted awesome with chocolate, and decided it would be a good answer.
So there you have it. I didn’t know at all. But I went ahead and let them think it was my acute tasting ability. A girl’s gotta get her kicks where she can.
My love affair with Abba did not begin until the ripe old age of 17, when I saw the movie, Muriel’s Wedding (You can’t stop progress!). I enjoyed the Abba songs on it so much, I went out and bought a bunch of other Abba albums. Then I saw Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert with that fantastic “Mamma Mia” performance at the end by the Elrond the Elf/Agent in The Matrix (Talk about your multifaceted actor…). Then there was that dorm-mate of mine, Eileen, who was two years younger and twice as crazy, who liked to lip sync and dance a hilarious rendition of “Fernando.” I introduced her to Erasure’s Abba-Esque album, and in the end all, she wound up taking mine (without my permission). Oh well, I was happy to spread the “Take a Chance on Me” love.
So why all the Abba memories? Pond’s is sponsoring a Mamma Mia! Contest. Make a video of you and two girlfriends to either Mamma Mia or Dancing Queen. The Grand Prize is a trip to London to the world premiere of Mamma Mia!, starring the always talented Meryl Streep, the deliciously sexy Colin Firth, and the ruggedly sexy Pierce Brosnan. (Had trouble embedding the preview, so watch it here)
Oh, that I were over 40 and fabulous. Hell, I just might make a video anyways. And shelve it with all the other videos I make and never watch again. Everybody knows the fun is in making the videos not watching them.
The Flower Fields of Carlsbad are open from March through May, fifty acres of Giant Tecolote Ranunculus flowers, in a rainbow of colors.
Saturday was Bluegrass Day at the Flower Fields, so our frolicking amongst the flora was accompanied by the strains of stringed instrument-picking. Guitars and mandolins and fiddles and banjoes and upright basses. I heard a lovely rendition of A Man of Constant Sorrow, which always puts a smile on my face, since anything that makes me think of George Clooney puts a smile on my face.
We went for a wagon ride to get into the fields and halfway through, took the option to get off the wagon and walk the rest of the way down, so that we could, well, stop and smell the flowers. From the top of the hill, the rows of flowers slope down and the ocean is the horizon. From the bottom of the hill, the same rows of flowers rise above you to the sky. And because there are so many rows, you wonder if you’re looking at a different set of flowers because the red that was so vibrant when you were at the top of the hill is now practically unnoticeable, and you realize you didn’t even know that there were any violet flowers when you were standing at the top, but they’re putting on a show of brilliance now that you’re at the bottom. The best place is to stand, though, is the middle of the hill, because you can look from side to side, and the colors stretch beyond the limit of your sight. What a wonderful feeling to stand in a field of flowers, while a breeze keeps your skin cool even though you’re standing in the sunshine. (I have come to realize that part of that exquisite feeling may have been due to an ingestion of pollen, but that’s a whole other unexciting story, unless you think comparing decongestant brands is exciting).
The Boy and Little No Limit had a blast, taking the opportunity to announce all the different colors they saw. I encouraged them to count the flowers, though neither of them really got past 20. We went through a human maze grown out of sweet peas, which was fun because it smelled so nice (another possible contribution to my aforementioned decongestant issue).
There is a playground inside the Flower Fields, called Santa’s Village, and the kids can play in cutesy cottages and monkey bars to work off all that energy so there’s room for more fresh lemonade. I chose to sit in a shady spot which happened to be under the roof of one of the little cottage themed playhouses, only this one had a lock on it, so I guessed it was a storage place for cleaning tools for the playground area. I didn’t think twice about it, but EVERY SINGLE CHILD needed to know. What’s behind the door? Why is the door locked? I want to go in this one! Why? Why? Why?
(More importantly, why did they keep asking me? So what, I’m sitting in the front of the door. Do I look like The Keeper of the Door That is Locked?)
Are you the Gate Keeper?
My mother in law made the joke that it was Pandora’s Box, in which case, I’m glad the door remained locked, because surely the first thing any evils set loose would do would be to ruin all the pretty flowers, and take a look—they are lovely, aren’t they?
The Cure for Modern Life is Lisa Tucker’s fourth book. And for the fourth time, I’ve enjoyed reading a novel by her.
The Cure for Modern Life is the story of Matthew Connelly, a top exec at a pharmaceutical company and several of his friendships: Amelia, the only woman he ever loved, who is determined to take down pharmaceutical companies in general, for their manipulation of the medical industry and pushing of prescription drugs (hey, who can blame her); Ben, his best friend and a skilled scientist who, shall we say, isn’t so good with the ladies—or for that matter, anything that isn’t science; and Danny and Isabelle, the sweet children of a heroin addict who enter Matthew’s life one random night on the Walnut Street Bridge.
I first learned of Lisa Tucker when I signed up for a Beginning Novel Writing class with her through the UCLA Extension. One of the first things she emphasized was the importance of the first sentence, the first paragraph, the first three pages, and finally, the first chapter, all of which we submitted in increments.
So let’s look at her first chapter. The opening line? “Was Matthew Connelly a bad man?” Does it set the stage for the novel? Yup. This novel goes around and around on the question, “What constitutes ‘good’? That could keep you up every night for the rest of your life: what is good? What is doing good? Who are you to decide what is and is not good? When a drug can heal some but hurt others, what does that make it? Good? Bad? Neither? How do you answer the question do the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few (cue the ending to Star Trek II: The Wrath of Kahn)?
I love that this novel begins with such a simple sentence, and a question too. Because you will read this whole book wondering if Matthew Connelly is, in fact, a bad man. Which brings up another interesting aspect of this novel, and another thing they like to teach in beginning writing classes. Is your protagonist likeable? What about the supporting characters? Are they likeable? Do you root for them? These characters all have such strong flaws, there are times when I just want to reach into the book and wring their necks, but then they come back and remind me that hey, you’re not perfect either. We’re all only human. They get rash when they shouldn’t and over-reflective when they needn’t. I love how human they are.
There are few authors that I can say I’ve read everything by them. I’m glad I came across Lisa while she still had only two books out. It was easy to get up to speed and now I can read along with her. Her books have gotten better with each one. I feel like her characters’ complexities get more in-depth with each book. They always revolve around hardships experienced during childhood and the need for love—sometimes giving it, sometimes rejecting it. The Cure for Modern Life is another fascinating journey into the human desire to be accepted for who they are, problems and all.
I was going through the kids’ closet and found a box with a doll in it. I have been storing this doll on the top shelf of the closet to preserve it for a time when Little No Limit is older and more capable of taking care of her dolls, as opposed to feeding them to the dogs and such. This particular doll was a gift from Mother-in-law.
It was Little No Limit’s First Birthday. We invited all our friends. Among these friends was Al. She and I are no longer friends because we have moved on to different places and lost touch, but I remember Al fondly.
We went for walks in the mornings and had scrapbooking nights. She was a mom of three when I was having The Boy, so she gave me tips on kids and such. But more than any of that, I remember Al as the girl who shouldn’t drink, because even just one drink was enough to get her tipsy, and two got her drunk. And once she was drunk, she said somewhat funny, sometimes inappropriate things in her high pitched, nasal-y, Columbian-accented voice. Like the time her and her husband came over for dinner, and she decided to nickname her husband “El Cheapo.”
Another such occasion of too much to drink was Little No Limit’s first birthday party.
Everyone came over in the early afternoon. Food, wine, beer, sweet stuff… everybody had a great time, especially Al. When it came time to open the presents, Al was sitting next to Mother-in-law.
I think it important to note two things here: one, nobody in the room besides me really knew Al, and two, nobody in the room besides me really knew Al.
Among the items in the gift bag from Mother-in-law was the aforementioned doll. It was handmade, by Husband’s grandmother who had passed away four years prior. Great Grandmother had made a number of dolls, and Mother-in-law had saved them to pass on to her granddaughters. When I opened it, Al was like, “Oh what’s that?” and I handed it to her for a closer look while Mother-in-law told everyone in the room the background on the doll.
After mother-in-law’s stirring five minute spiel about the dolls going from one generation to the next, Al proudly held up the doll and said, in her drunk, high pitched, nasal-y, Columbian-accented voice, “These things are totally worthless.” (“Theeeese theeeengs are tooootally werrrthless.”)
Stunned silence.
“Um, Al,” I said. “I think the word you’re looking for is priceless.”
***
Thank you, Al. The memory of the look on everyone’s faces is worthless to me.
Written by Riley on April 3, 2008 in: Blogosphere | Tags: Meme
Veronica at Toddled Dredge tagged me for a meme that involves a serious amount of self-gratification, and the only thing I can say is, baby, I’m all about that. I am to list my favorite posts in the categories listed below. These are posts not written by other bloggers, but by–as Miss Piggy would say–moi.
Here goes.
Friends – Here’s a lovely conversation between me and my two best friends, Brassy and Lawyer Girls. Nietzsche, merkins. Good clean fun.
: Riley, let me ask you this—would YOU think it was fun to be shoved into a box and have the lid closed over you?
