Pink Frosting Hearts

There are two things I think of when I think of Valentine's Day when I was a kid. 

One of those things is the whole school-time Valentine's parties. I remember going out and finding just the right assortment of cards. I had a big class in grade school, so I had to get a big enough box -- usually the kind with 40 "student" cards and 2 "teacher" cards -- so that meant they weren't always the "cool" ones. Usually it was the semi-generic ones (no major cartoon characters or anything, but since this was the 1970s, that wasn't a big deal), and they all had pictures and sayings on them like a picture of a great big bumblebee saying "Bee Mine." I remember painstakingly writing out everyone's names and putting one piece of candy (a hard sugar heart or the like) into each envelope before sealing them. And at school there was the morning event of getting to decorate a "mailbox" by cutting a slit in the top of a shoebox and pasting cut-out paper hearts all over it. Then, during the party, people could come by and drop their cards into your mailbox and you could open them when  you got home. (In some small way, I think the idea of taking them home was smart -- that way the rest of the class didn't find out how few/how many cards you got or from whom...) 

Hmmm... I may have to go out and buy some of those candy conversation hearts today... But, I digress...

The other thing I remember from growing up were the sugar cookies my mom would make and decorate with pink frosting hearts. The cookies themselves were a thick sugar cookie -- not the kind you roll and cut out -- and they stood quite well on their own. But at Valentine's Day, they got the extra embellishment of the frosting in the shape of a heart. All the way through college, I would receive those cookies in the mail for Valentine's Day, and although my friends would start by raising an eyebrow, they always enjoyed the cookies, too.

These days we're all more calorie conscious. And schools have to be more careful and politically correct when it comes to "forcing" children to give Valentines to their classmates. Even so, this year when it came time for me to send a February care package to my nephew (a freshman in college), I made cookies and frosted them. Although... Since he's just joined a fraternity, I didn't want to embarrass him with pink frosting hearts, so I made heart-shaped cookies, but frosted them in blue (one of the fraternity's colors). 

** sidenote ** Without any prior notice about this posting, my parents sent Christopher and me a Valentine's Day care package this week. It didn't contain cookies (there was peanut brittle for me and fudge for Christopher), but my card in it was a Valentine with pictures of candy conversation hearts on it. Hmmm... Do you think my folks know me pretty well? ** end sidenote **

Oh. Don't worry. I also kept a few of the cookies. They are in the kitchen in all of their pink-frosted glory for Christopher and me to eat. After all, you really just can't beat pink frosting hearts. 

A World of Words

No. This isn't another post waxing rhapsodic about another of my networking meetings. This is all about a movie I went to this afternoon: Inkheart.

Inkheart only hit the movie theaters 2 or 3 weeks ago, and is already down to only one showing per day at any theater where you can find it. And, having seen it this afternoon, I have to say that that is really too bad. 

Here's the basic idea of the movie: Some guy reads a story aloud to his daughter, and as he reads things come to life out of it. Unfortunately, for each person that comes out of a story, someone has to go in. Years ago, he lost his wife this way when 3 bad guys came out, and he's been searching for a way to get her back ever since.

It's a simple enough idea, really, based in a series of "children's" books by Cornelia Funke (not quite sure that's the author's real name, but it's on the books and in the movie credits). And I went to the movie fully expecting it to be a nice little romp with Brendan Fraser in another kid-friendly adventure movie. Mostly it was that. But...

It's also a rather complex story which includes a great-aunt (played by the marvellous Helen Mirren), a fire juggling thief (Paul Bettany), the original thief from the tales on which Aladdin is based, and Toto (yes, they brought in the little dog, too). The dad is a "book doctor" and one of the most terrifying moments in the movie is the destruction of a library filled with one-of-a-kind books. Nothing run-of-the-mill kids' adventure movie in that!

There are villainous villains, but there are also people who may only be bad because that's how the author portrays them (the street thief is a good guy, for instance). On it's surface this is an adventure movie focused on family and fantasy. But, underneath that, there is an amazing love for books. You see, without the story being read--not simply told, but truly read--nothing comes to life. 

Beyond that, though, there is a true appreciation of where books can take you. The books in this movie truly do speak to the characters. We hear them whispering in a bookshop and in a library. And we know that the people who come from the pages have more story than the author gives us, because their worlds are evolving even when the pages are closed. 

I left the theater wondering where I could buy the books and wanting to know more about the characters. It's been a while since I felt that way about a movie and it's source material. 

Sadly, this belief in the power of books and the imaginations they inspire may be a dwindling one. There were only 9 people watching Inkheart today. 

Oh. Right. Movie review. Umm... 

Action and adventure for the whole family? Yes. Great moments with Helen Mirren riding a unicorn? Yes. Overall? A (Okay. If you didn't guess by now, I really liked it. You should go see it.)

Tulips

Christopher and I both enjoy having fresh flowers in the house. We're not worried about expensive flowers or big bouquets, we just like having the flowers around. Roses are lovely, but so are tulips. Irises are nice, too. Daisies and carnations are fine. We just like flowers. 

I'm not sure when that started for Christopher, but for me the desire to have flowers in the house--while instilled by my mom--really kicked in when I spent 9 months living in Paris between college and grad school. I was working as a teaching assistant, so there weren't many luxuries I could afford, but fresh flowers were relatively inexpensive. They were also available on pretty much every corner and outside every market. So they became my every-so-often splurge. 

When I lived in Baltimore, I had the fun of experiencing the Claymore Sieck wholesale florist. They're open to the public, and you go into the cold rooms and choose your own flowers from all of the boxes and bundles. Dozens of dozens of longstem roses in every color are piled next to cartons of multi-colored carnations. Alstroemeria and irises share rooms with lilies and orchids. The first time I tentatively walked into Sieck's was disconcerting--I'd never been somewhere like that where you had to serve yourself from start to finish (except for cashing out, obviously). But I learned to love the act of plunging through the plastic dividers into the cold rooms and finding the treasures on the other side. Eventually I came to consider it one of my favorite places in all of Baltimore. It wasn't the easiest place for me to get to, but for all of the parties I had at my apartment, I always found my way to get fresh flowers. 

In the middle of winter in Minneapolis--even during the weird warm and rainy days we've been having--flowers seem to promise spring. I haven't found a wholesaler to go dig around in, but the grocery stores have bundles of flowers, and we live near a couple of florists, as well. And at the end of last week Christopher brought home a bundle of budding tulips which, over the past few days, have opened to become a richly multi-faceted orange. 

Although, rationally, I know that we're a month or so from tulips poking through the ground outside, having this touch of spring in the house is wonderful. 

I Am Just That Into It

I know I should be going to Oscar-worthy films this time of year, but I just got back from the movie "He's Just Not That Into You," and I have to admit that I really liked it. 

It has an indy-film feel to it - a lot of little movies all playing out on their own, with just the slightest overlap of characters. (Some actors apparently never even saw each other during the filming, simply because the storylines didn't connect.) And, in creating those micro-universes, it also gave the feeling of the reality of extended friendships, as well as the way we all have "friends-in-law" who are only connected to each other through friends. (You know, like your real in-laws, who you only know because of your spouse...)

The most constant player in the movie is a young woman named Gigi who keeps believing every guy who says "I'll call" and then she gets completely heartbroken. Gigi, while... well... stalking a guy at a bar, meets Alex who is both a bartender and a guy who isn't afraid to tell her what the guys she's dating actually mean (as opposed to what they say). 

Through those two characters we meet the other players: A woman who is finding that she and her husband are falling apart. That same husband who stumbles into a relationship with the woman in front of him at the Handy Mart. Then there's the bartender's friend who places a real estate ad with an unlucky-in-love ad rep at a gay weekly magazine (she has her own Greek chorus of three gay co-workers who have some great one-liners). Finally there is the unmarried couple who are friends with the married couple, but seem to be more committed than anyone else. 

Got all that?

Basically, here's the deal: People looking for love. People searching for happy endings. People not always getting what they're looking for. 

Broadly, here's the rest of the deal: I can't imagine any people going to the movie and not laughing out loud as they recognize themselves... or... I mean... "their friends" in what is going on on the screen. 

Along with some great one-liners, there are also a bunch of inserted segments between sections of the movie (kind of like the things that happen in front of a curtain between acts of a stage show). These are populated with great people telling their own stories. And they are not to be missed. But, then, neither are any of the folks populating the universe these characters live in:

There's a set of sisters and their dysfunctional marriages all hanging around after their father has a wedding-related heart attack. There are all of the construction workers renovating a row home - but not smoking. There's the waiter in the bar who can't understand why his striped and spattered shirt isn't considered "black." And although we don't meet him, there's an older guy in a boat just one dock over who is very nice and happy to offer you a white wine spritzer. And, well, I enjoyed meeting every one of them.

Expect this to be the hot Valentine's Day date movie of the year? No - it's too realistic. Go to it expecting to laugh out loud and maybe even get a little teary by the time it's done? Yes. So just go. (Well... unless you have to go to one of the Oscar-nominated flicks...)

Overall rating: A- (It gets the minus because it's supposedly set in Baltimore, but aside from one or two exterior shots and the use of Clipper City ale, they didn't do anything with the city - not even having any of the couples call each other "hon." And that was just wrong.)

Misery Loves Company (Sorta)

Last night I spent much of my evening at a networking event. Well... Loosely considered it's a networking event. Really, it's a group of between 20 and 80 people who get together on a monthly basis for a potluck dinner and 2 or 3 hours of conversation.

Most of the talk is the usual smalltalk centered around current events... weather... politics... whatever. But, in this group, when the talk turns to "How's your work?" the conversation is decidedly different from most cocktail parties I've gone to.

You see, most of the people in this group are writers. Sure, there are some illustrators and graphic designers in the group, but the predominant demographic is self-employed writers. So if someone turns to you and says "What do you do?" and you say "I'm a writer" (which is usually enough to stop people from asking more questions), in this group the volley comes back to you in the form of another question, such as: "What kind?" or "What are you working on?"

Last night the evening was filled with people talking about novels they've just had published, and books of essays they're working on. And, to some level of relief for me, people who have been freelancing for a long time were saying that they were just beginning to see an upturn in the markets, after long doldrums. That is where my misery loved being in the company of all these folks. 

I love being in the midst of people who are making--or attempting to make--a living in the world of words. Just knowing that it might be possible kinda makes even the most miserable employment situation a little more lovable.

Giving Equal Time

We are finally getting our January thaw. It's a week late, but I'm not about to complain when the weather forecasters are all saying that we're supposed to have 4 or 5 days in a row at or above 30 degrees. Instead, I thought I'd give the warm weather equal time.

Today I celebrated the warm turn by going out and running a couple of errands while wearing something other than one of my massive winter coats. 

** sidenote ** I've been noticing, lately, that people in this part of the world dress - and look - incredibly androgynous this time of year. I was watching someone cross the street in front of me today, and with hat and scarf and boots and big puffy coat, I had no idea if it was a man or woman. This doesn't seem to happen in "warmer" parts of the country because people can wear stylish coats and hats and shoes, because stylish clothing tends to be more gender-specific. I think that's one of the weird things about living in this part of the country: Not even knowing whether your about to hit a man or a woman who is being an idiot walking in front of your car. ** end sidenote **

In fact, I even went so far as to shovel a bunch of snow onto one of our small garden plots. It's in a corner near the house and garage, and gets a lot of sun, so the snow is all gone, there. Since the ground is packed with bulbs right there, I don't want them to think it's warm enough to come up. So I covered them with snow. Kind of a reverse of covering plants with blankets in the fall. 

Equally exciting is that the second of possibly seven buds on our orchid has begun to open. Now we have one fully open flower and one half-open, with hopes for even more as we go along. My camera is not digital, and is getting old, but I took the following photo of the first bloom last week:

Wow... That's really blurry... sorry... Just imagine the flower looking really clear and delicate, and you'll get the idea of what it was like to see the first bloom open. Now, imagine what it's like to have one open bloom and see the next bud in line looking like that. Can you see why it kind of feels like waiting for spring? It's cool. Err... warm...?

Going to the East Side

Alright, so going to the East side of the country isn't all that major when it simply means a drive across the Mississippi River from Minneapolis to St. Paul, but Christopher and I just got back from dinner at one of our favorite pizza places: Grandpa Tony's on Snelling (I'd link to a website, but I can't find one...?).

It's a small place, and when I lived closer to it I would order delivery pizza from there instead of going to eat in. But since we were driving past it tonight, we just stopped in for dinner. 

The only waitress we saw for the evening was named Michelle (or at least that's what I think the receipt said on it), and she was great. Very friendly, but also quick and efficient. We were their first seated table for the night, but she handled the other two tables (both families) as quickly as she had dealt with us. 

And the pizza... well... it's AMAZING. Maybe a tad greasy--not dripping, just a little greasier than I would usually choose. That is the only bad thing I could ever say about it. It also has a perfect amount of cheese, a just-slightly-spicy tomato sauce, and even on our "regular" pepperoni pizza, there was more pepperoni than you usually get on a pizza when you order double pepperoni. And the crust... Oh... The crust... It's cracker-thin, and the edges kind of flake apart if you're not careful. (Apparently they do other crust styles, but the thin is SO good I can't imagine trying one of the others!)

We ordered a large and packed up less than a quarter of it to bring home with us. 

Definitely worth travelling "East" for!