Julie and Julia

My apologies for being en retard with this post. I was just able to see the movie, yesterday afternoon.
Much of my growing-up years, Julia Child's show "The French Chef," was on our [black and white] television. The program premiered in 1963 and ran through 1973. Child earned a BA from Smith in English. And as I was always told while majoring in English, if you have an English degree, you can do anything you want to do. And she did. I always felt that my paternal grandma and Julia Child's favored one another. Not that my grandma was 6'2", she wasn't. But, she did wear comfortably flat shoes, always had on stockings and house dresses, with a ridiculously high waistband, and often wore matching earrings and beads (often times, while slaving over a hot stove, preparing a huge meal). Both my grandma and Child were classy ladies. As Amy Adams (portraying Powell in the movie points out) never losing her temper, never throwing a fit or having a melt-down. I think the only time I ever saw my grandma angry it was over an escaped cow. I noted that in the movie, Meryl Streep wears ridiculously high heels. Streep plays Child in a delightful manner. Nailed her. As did Dan Aykroyd, when he mocked her in his hilarious imitation of Child on Saturday Night Live in 1978. (Another program/episode that I remember from the original.)

Our local book club read Julie & Julia this past year. I wasn't too taken with it. But since seeing the movie, I think maybe I should give Powell's book a second chance. Powell's adventure started with her blog. Her goal: 524/ recipes in 365 days. I wouldn't even take on 365 recipes in 365 days. In her review of the movie, Laura Shapiro of gourmet magazine, ripped Powell. She called Powell narcissistic, hollow and unforgivably lazy. I would retort to Shapiro, "aren't all writers narcissistic?" Isn't anyone who ever writes a blog, a book, a column believe in their own heart that we have something to say to the masses and that the masses want to read it?

In Crossing to Safety, Wallace Stegner states of writers:

"He turns the conversation to that banal subject, fascinating to non-writers , of why writers write. Ego-enhancement, sure. What else? Psychological imbalance? Neurosis? Trauma? And if trauma, how far can trauma go before it stops being stimulating and becomes destructive?...Are writers reporters, prophets, crazies, entertainers, preachers, judges, what? Who appoints them as mouthpieces? If they appoint themselves, as they clearly do, how valid is the commission?"

Powell found a niche that worked. She took an idea and worked it. She labored, anguished (and anguished) over it. (I think one of the elements of the book that I found unappealing was the amount of complaining about every minor detail of the project.) But was she successful? Absolutely. Her blog evolved into a book which evolved into a movie. Financially, she is rewarded. The success of her project/blog/book/movie has been an impetus to revive the sales of Child's book "Mastering the Art of French Cooking." Bookstores are seeing the book "fly off of the shelves" in record numbers, perhaps rivaling the original release.

I enjoyed the movie immensely. Streep is delightful in her portrayal of Child and Stanley Tucci is adorable in his portrayal of Child's husband, Paul. If you haven't seen it yet (it is now a five buck club movie,) go see it. You won't be disappointed.

In the meantime, I will be reading more of Julie Powell. Her current blog is now favored in my lineup of those I live to read. And I may be reading Julie and Julia again. Even if Shapiro won't give you another chance, Julie, I will.

P.S. My favorite movie moment is always obscure. In this movie, there were two favortie obscure moments. First, when Julie and her friend are in the bar and her friend tells her that she is a b*tch. It takes a good friend to be able to tell you that. The second obscure moment that I loved was when Julia and Avis met after being pen pals for eight years. I instantly thought of meeting Mindy, Kate, Nina, or Alicia- all women whose blogs I read. They inspire me, cheer me, warm my heart and on occaision, I am fortunate enough to "talk" to them via the internet. The scene when Avis puts her arms out for a hug and says to Julia "look at you!" just made me have goose bumps.

Inside

When I got the call, she was crying. I was afraid you were dead.

Not dead, but in jail. Arrested again. This time, you violated parole from your most recent arrest.

I felt nauseated. Sick. Sorry.
I didn't know what to say to her.
All I could say was "I'm sorry."
Mostly, I'm sorry for what it does to her.
And him.
I haven't understood the choices that you have made in your life for a very long time. I feel as if I don't know you any longer.
At one point in our lives, we didn't even need to communicate. We could just look at each other and know what the other was thinking. Now, I don't know what is inside of that head of yours.
I don't claim to understand, because I don't.
I don't even feel angry. What would that accomplish?
I think about you almost every day.
I think about the fact that you haven't been outside since the day you went in.
That alone would drive me mad.
Plus, the lack of privacy.
The fact that you can't use your phone,
get on the Internet,
pet your dog,
buy an ice-cream cone,
all things that I take for granted in my world.
While searching for an image for this post, I felt sicker and sadder just looking at photos of jail cells.
A cage.
A box.
Locked in.
I don't know how any human being could bear it.

I try to comfort her and say "at least it is just jail, and not prison."

I hope this "time out" has given you a chance to think.
To ponder upon the choices that have landed you in this predicament.
I've heard that you've said that you put yourself where you ended up and that you will have to start over.
I hope you can.
I wonder how you will get a job. Or, what kind of job you could get.
I am so sorry.
But, I will not enable you.
You must be responsible for your own actions.
The last time I tried to talk to you about the problems I though you had, the help I felt you should seek- you told me you didn't have a problem, that you had everything "under control."
It seems the one thing you have lost for certain is control.
Now, in your cell, in that building, you have no control over anything.
You wait for their mercy.
You wait for a hearing.
You hope for a plea bargain.
I pray that you will get help.
That you will seek counsel.
That you would grow up at long last.
You have such potential. You always have had such potential.
Do you know at one point in my life I had such admiration for you that I wanted to name my son for you?

I think about you every day.
And I pray for you.

My, my, my said the spider to the fly...

For those of you who are regular readers, due to my fascination with spiders (and other insects), you may think that I am an entomologist. I assure you I am more of an etymologist than an entomologist. I have a B.S. in English and a minor in Natural Resources...so the two do seem to go hand in hand, in a matter of speaking, in my life. This is my heart-shaped birdhouse that I bought several years ago. We always joked that it was a bird house for a heart shaped bird. Obviously, more for fashion than function. But now that Miss Spider has taken up residence, it has a function.

Because we live adjacent to the woods which are on two sides of our house, I battle the spiders. When I came to live here nearly two years ago, the spiders just about had the run of the place. When I began to clean, the spiders said "damn, she means business." Suffice to say, the spider population has greatly diminished since I moved in. And as I've stated before, I respect them when they are outdoors, which is their turf. When they are indoors, on my turf, it is a totally different situation.

When I moved here, I was skilled at the art of battling spiders. My ex-husband and I owned a house many years ago (I lived there for ten years with him) that was also adjacent (on two sides)to the woods. (Interesting how my life seems to have come full circle.)

Just as I am fascinated with bees, I am fascinated by all living creatures. This spider has woven her web in such a fashion that there is a tunnel with the entrance going straight into the heart shaped door of the bird house.

We were at a party this past Saturday night and I was talking about how I wear my crocs for house shoes because I would never go bare foot- especially getting up in the middle of the night because you never know when you might encounter a spider. A man that was sitting nearby said in an incredulous voice "you have spiders? IN YOUR HOUSE?" I didn't quite know what to say. Doesn't everyone have spiders in their house to some degree? Depending, one would think, on how often you dust and vacuum. I suppose you might not have spiders if you have your house exterminated.

For those of you who sleep in my lovely guest room, have no fear. I scour the room with the pipe tool of the vacuum, making certain there are no spiders to share the room with you.

Waiting at the door to greet her guests.

Do you see how she has raised her "hand" in greeting?

"Hello, come into my lair."