An Announcement

Today's the 31st of July. Happy Birthday to Harry Potter and to the woman who created him, JK Rowlings.

Conspiracy unveiled

The dark forces are conspiring to keep me from watching all of Sean Bean's Sharpe series. It began at 7pm last night. The show was starting, but my younger brother was already immersed in another movie (The Longest Yard, blah blah blah) and I couldn't watch Sharpe in another room because we didn't get BBC America in any other room. And then I had to cook dinner, so I spent the first half hour of not being able to see Sharpe's Siege browning ground turkey and adding tomato paste and baking fries and onion rings, ect. But then divine intervention came and Rob left the TV and I seized the remote and turned it to Sean Bean. I was able to watch the last three quarters, for which I am grateful. Sharpe airs twice - once at 7 and then once at 1am. I wanted to see the beginning, so I stayed up until 1am to see the first half hour. I blogged for a while, and then I returned to the telly and waited. At 1am sharp (ha ha), Sharpe's Siege began. I was able to watch the first twenty minutes. I saw all of the plot strings get introduced. And just when I thought "I've only got ten more minutes left and then I can skedaddle of to bed," the screen went dark. Not only did the screen go dark, the entire room went dark. The (word omitted) power went out! It made a few feeble attempts to come back on, but gave up after three second-long flickers. I had ten lousy minutes to watch, and the power chooses that time to give up. I waited in the pitch black, hoping against hope that the power would resume. It didn't resume until three hours later, at which time I had already blindly groped my way to my room and went to bed. Needless to say, I was pissed. I was already pissed that the cable kept going screwy when I was watching my three quarters of Sharpe, but when the power went out, I was livid. Now that I have cooled down some, I decided to vent my frustrations in hopes of letting off some steam.

Flightplan: a few things put right

All through the month of September last year, I recall seeing many trailers for the movie Flightplan. You may recall this as well, especially if you happened to be with me when the preview aired. You see, I happen to fancy Sean Bean and will go to any lengths just to see him on screen. In real life I dare say I would rather not meet him - that would be ... like intruding into his real life. I collect his work, but I don't want to be a bother. Anyway, if you happened to be in the room when the preview aired, you would have heard one second of the intro and then a huge intake of breath as I dropped whatever I was doing, turned to glue my eyes to the screen, and watched for any glimpse of Sean Bean. Several times I did see him - when they aired the long versions. As they cut the time though, all you heard was me calling the TV-gods-that-be dirty rotten bastards. I have a point to make, I promise! Anyway, it's been almost a year since Flightplan hit theaters last 23 September, and it finally came to my home TV set. There is a divine website that I frequent that lists all of Sean Bean's appearances on TV for the next month. I happened to look a few days ago and saw that Flightplan and The Island would both be coming to my telly today and one week from today respectively. So, my entire day today has been devoted to waiting for the debut of Flightplan at 9pm est on Starz.

Let me digress for a moment to reference someone in my immediate family, who shall remain annonymous, but for the sake of this post let's call him D. Cumbie. No, Darren C. Anyway, he happened to tell me that the movie was not a favorite of his, that the movie had no real plot, and consisted merely of Jodie Foster repeating over and over "Julia!" and "Where's my daughter?" Also, he said that the movie was completely centered around Jodie Foster and had little development elsewhere and lacked plausibility in its entirety. Actually, he didn't actually say all of that, but I hope my brother will forgive me. After all, is it not my duty to stand by the man of my dreams and to stand up for all of his work, the good and the bad (though I have yet to see a bad movie with him in it)? And is it not my right to take offence when someone claims a film of His is not worth seeing when I have come to a conclusion that is quite to the contrary? It is my right, it is my duty, and by God I will stand up for him!

Now then, let's get down to the meat and potatoes. I liked the film. It kept me guessing, wondering if Jodie Foster's character Kyle Pratt was crazy, or if perhaps it really was some sort of conspiracy. No, I will not tell you. I will admit that Pratt does prate a bit about her daugher, but it really works well into the plot. The plot itself is excellent. I can't find any fault with it, and neither could my Dad. The film is crisp - clean cut and concise, of only one hour and thirty-eight minutes in duration. The dialogue is not overdrawn or cliched. I found several lines to be very entertaining, but not in the funny sense at all. You will find very few laughs in this film, unless you have my sensibilities and have to press a pillow to your mouth to stifle your giggles every time Sean Bean makes an appearance as the impressive Captain Rich. On that note, I would like to contradict someone who posted on the IMDb and said that Sean Bean was on screen for all of two minutes. That is certaintly NOT true. My Dad gave it the seal of approval, which is practically a first. My Mom was less easy to please, but I have to disqualify her vote because she dozed through it and missed some of the vital plot elements. I would watch the film again, and I am looking forward to watching it again. It is a mind game that kept me on my toes, and ended in a manner that left no ends unraveled. I have only three things to add: One, Sean Bean plays a good guy, a respectable good guy. Two, Sean Bean actually survives unscathed to appear in the film's conclusion. And three, here is Roger Ebert's view of the film. You shall see that I do not stand alone in my opinions.

How can a little girl simply disappear from an airplane at 37,000 feet? By asking this question and not cheating on the answer, "Flightplan" delivers a frightening thriller with an airtight plot. It's like a classic Locked Room Murder, in which the killer could not possibly enter or leave, but the victim is nevertheless dead. Such mysteries always have solutions, and so does "Flightplan," but not one you will easily anticipate. After the movie is over and you are on your way home, some questions may occur to you, but the film proceeds with implacable logic after establishing that the little girl does not seem to be on board.

The movie stars Jodie Foster in a story that bears similarities to her "Panic Room" (2002). In both films, a woman uses courage and intelligence to defend her child against enemies who hold all the cards. The problem she faces in "Flightplan" is more baffling: Who are her enemies? Why would they kidnap her daughter? How is it possible on an airplane?

For that matter, has it really happened? Foster plays Kyle Pratt, a jet propulsion engineer who has been employed in Germany on the design of the very airplane she is now using to cross the Atlantic. She is on a sad mission. Her husband, David, has died after falling -- she insists he fell and did not jump -- from a rooftop. The coffin is in the hold, and she is traveling with Julia (Marlene Lawston). She falls asleep, she wakes up, and Julia is gone.

Kyle methodically looks around the airplane, calm at first, then on the edge of panic. She tries to seem more rational than she feels, so the crew won't dismiss her as a madwoman. Certainly they're tempted, because the passenger list lacks Julia's name, the departure gate at Munich says she did not get on the plane, and her boarding pass and backpack are nowhere to be found. The captain is Sean Bean, very effective as a man who knows what his job is and how to do it. Peter Sarsgaard plays the in-flight air marshal, under the captain's orders. They receive a message from Munich informing them that Julia was killed along with her father. Obviously, the traumatized mother is fantasizing

And that's all you'll find out from me. There is no one else I want to mention, no other developments I want to discuss, no other questions I want to raise. If someone tries to tell you anything else about "Flightplan," walk away.

The movie's excellence comes from Foster's performance as a resourceful and brave woman; from Bean, Sarsgaard and the members of the cabin crew, all with varying degrees of doubt; from the screenplay by Peter A. Dowling and Billy Ray; and from the direction by Robert Schwentke, a German whose first two films were not much seen in North America. This one will be.

I want to get back to the notion of the airtight plot. Often in thrillers we think of obvious questions that the characters should be asking, but do not, because then the problems would be solved and the movie would be over. In "Flightplan," Foster's character asks all the right questions, and plays the situation subtly and with cunning: She knows that once she crosses a line, she will no longer be able to help her daughter. There are times when she's ahead of the audience in her thinking, anticipating the next development, factoring it in.

As the situation develops, her response is flexible. Her tactics are improvised moment by moment, not out of some kind of frantic acting-out. Because she does what we would do, because she makes no obvious mistakes, because of the logic of everything the crew knows, she seems trapped. A passenger cannot disappear from an airplane, and Julia has disappeared, so either her mother is hallucinating, or something has happened that is apparently impossible.

Schwentke is limited, but not constrained, by the fact that most of his movie takes place on an airplane in mid-air. He uses every inch of the aircraft, and the plot depends on the mother's knowledge of its operation and construction. If she didn't know the plane better, really, than its pilots, her case would be hopeless. Even with her knowledge, she comes up against one bafflement after another. Should she doubt her sanity? Should we? We have, after all, seen Julia on the airplane. But for that matter, in two early scenes we saw, and she saw, her husband David, after he was dead. They spoke to one another. Didn't they?

What's that smell?

My Dad and my Brother recently became employed at Coastal Equipment Rentals in Newport. Lee, who owns the store, used to work with my dad at Country Aire Rental until they both quit within days of each other (the owners weren't the nicest people). Someone quit at Lee's store a week or so ago and he needed a quick and efficient replacement. He called my dad and my dad, who has been talking about getting a job for a while now, was more than happy to accept after a long conversation with Lee. The one condition was that Rob, my younger brother, went along with dad, because leaving him alone at home is not something either of my parents are very comfortable with. So Rob gets paid for a twenty-hour week and my dad works a 40-50 week at the store as Manager, I think. Dad wanted to start at the bottom, but Lee wanted to put him on top right of the bat. So, Rob goes to work every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday, and dad works Monday through Thursday, and then on Saturday. With both parents working again, and me at home, I get to maintain the homefront while they are gone, which aside from involving cleaning and mowing and other household maintenance, also involves cooking.

I've actually started to like cooking. I can cook - make no mistake about that - but I've always shied away from cooking meat - I don't have any practical experience in this area. But then for something to be a meal, nine times out of ten it has to have some sort of meat. A few years ago, when my mom was in California with her father, and my dad and my Uncle James were working all day to build our new roof, I was in charge of cooking dinner. During that time, I learned that I liked a lot of seasoning on my meat - I would coat pieces of chicken or pork chops or beef with every spice that I could get my hands on (and that passed my smell test). I put garlic powder, chili powder, salt n' spice, onion powder, cayenne pepper, pepper flakes, and who knows what else on every inch of the meat. And it surprisingly came out well. But since then, I haven't cooked any meat aside from ground beef in a skillet. But on Monday I jumped right in and searched our freezer to determine what my options were. There were some spare ribs (no thank you), some venison (I'll let dad cook that), some chicken , and some ground beef. So, dinner would either be chicken or ground beef. Now I needed some inspiration. With the key words of tasty and low fat (as my mom asked) I scoured through the recipe books (we have two shelves just full of cook books - tons of options). I settled for Parmesan Chicken. It was surprisingly easy - a little of this, a bit of that, pop it in the oven and let time take over. I didn't tell anyone what it was - save for it being baked chicken. When they saw me take out the leftover spaghetti sauce and then start boiling some noodles, they were a bit apprehensive. It was fun to see comprehension dawn on their faces when I explained that it was Parmesan chicken. So the chicken on a bed of pasta and spaghetti sauce, with a salad on the side was my first meal. It was very good, and that's not just me talking - everyone liked it.

So today I became a tad bit more ambitious. I made a loaf a French bread (starting with flour and water), and I just took it out of the oven. I then made a meat loaf type dish - with the ground beef mixed with some thyme and rosemary and garlic, and then a filling of broccoli, carrots, and sweet peppers all rolled up inside like a cinnamon roll. It's baking right now, but it sure smelled good while I was making it. And then for dessert, I made a coconut creme pie (hold the meringue), which is currently cooling in the back of the refrigerator. I hope everything turns out well. I can't believe I've rambled on about cooking for this long, but there you have it. Bon apetit!

Narnia; Sharpe Revisited

The day before yesterday, while I was still on base after seeing my lab results, my parents and I made a leisurely perusal of the PX, the Commissary, and the Package Store. While at the PX, I made a detour from the clothes section where my mom had set up shop and headed over to the entertainment section - CD's, DVD's, and books. And what was the first thing that should catch my eye but The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe: Widescreen Edition. Widescreen! If you read my much earlier post, you would have heard (or just read) me decry Walmart for it's very poor planning in the DVD section, as everything was fullscreen. I wanted so very badly to buy Narnia, but I refused to by it in fullscreen. But that didn't matter anymore because now I had found the widescreen edition, and buy it I did. We finally made time to watch it last night, and so over our fajitas and tacos, we watched the previews (Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest - divine coincidence). My parents had never seen the movie, and I had seen it twice, so it worked perfectly because they seldom watch any movie twice and I will watch any good movie a million times before I tire of it.

After watching it, I have come to the conclusion that I am a huge softie. I couldn't help tearing up at every leave taking, at every near-death experience, and at every sentimental moment. But what really got me was how well this film was animated. I mean - the animation in this film is superb, right down to the mane on Aslan's neck. Superb. I may know nothing about animation, but comparing it to the Lord of the Rings or King Kong, I'd say the animation in this film outstrips them by miles. Dead Man's Chest also had excellent animation - but then again both films are Disney. The score of Narnia is also very good - inspirational and more. I think I could watch this movie over and over again without growing bored. That may have a teensy bit to do with the fact that I think the oldest kid - Peter - is very cute. And every time I find myself thinking how good-looking he is, I feel like a cradle-robber, or worse. But I really can't help myself! Everyone should go and see this movie, even if it's for no other reason than to say you've seen it.

On a different note, I was able to watch one of Sharpe's movies last night - Sharpe's Regiment. The Sharpe movies are a collection of made-for-TV movies starring Sean Bean as Sharpe, a rough-and-ready Major in the British Army about two centuries ago. I must say that watching Sean Bean as not only a good guy, but also as the central character and the love interest in a film has made very happy indeed. So, last night, I caught the last fifteen minutes of Sharpe's Regiment, and then we watched Narnia. After that, my parent's went to bed and I stayed up (as usual) and then decided to clean the kitchen (unusual). When I was finished, it was 1 AM and I knew that Sharpe's Regiment would be airing again at that time, so I sat myself down right next to the TV and watched.

Each film lasts about two hours (with commercials, during which I watched Die Hard with a Vengeance), so that totaled two hours of complete entertainment. I love listening to everyone's accent - they are so varied and so different from my flat speech. Their words are also amusing - the expressions and terms they use, not to mention the insults, are enough to keep me entertained, even if Sean Bean wasn't the star in the film (the driving reason behind me liking the Full Monty so much - they speak such broad yorkshire that it's hard to understand at first, but after a few minutes I can get the hang of it - and it just happens to have been filmed in Sean Bean's hometown of Sheffield). It was a bit disconcerting to hear him called "Dick" so many times, until I realized that his character's name is Richard Sharpe, hence the "Dick" part. And I got to see him have a little romance with several women in this one, and then he finally ended up engaged to one, who I was actually starting to like until I saw her real name and learned that Sean Bean had actually married her a year later, although they divorced a mere three years after that. Cheeky little blighter. Oh well, I hope he was happy with her and their time together, as I hope he is happy now with his current girlfriend and probable fiance. If worst comes to worst, I can always wait for that kid in Narnia to grow up and then it won't be cradle-robbing, for we'll both be adults. Until then, I shall enjoy fully appreciating Sean Bean and any others who stir my fancy.

Not Much Here

I haven't anything that's earth-shattering to report, so I'll just stick with the mundane. I rearranged my room three nights ago, and I must say that the change is quite remarkable. It appears that I now have so much more space, when all I did was shift my bed over to the next wall and place the other furniture around it accordingly. I actually did the work in three hours three nights ago, after watching this really weird Don Johnson movie, called The Hot Spot. I had planned on doing something to my room that night, but only if I started moving things by eleven. I didn't want to be up half of the night, you see. Well, I was ready to turn the TV off at 10:30 when lo and behold I see The Hot Spot, 1990, with Don Johnson, Jennifer Connelly, and Virginia Madsen. Well, I just had to investigate it - Don Johnson and Jennifer Connelly? Well, from the get-go I could tell it was going to be a weird movie, and I kept watching it wondering how weird it could get. Very weird. Anyway, I saw enough to know that the bronzed skin Don Johnson sports in every film is not his normal tone and it does not cover his entire body - there are some spots that are quite pale. So, at midnight, when I was through with that movie, I went to my room and said, what the hell, why not? So I spent the next three hours moving things around, and the rest is history.

I went to the hospital today to get the results of my lab work. Everything is just right. Amazingly right, in my opinion. Apparently, aside from the way I look, I am the picture of good health. My cholesterol is low, my fasting-blood-sugar is good, my triglycerides are great - there's no problem anywhere. Except I got the impression that my doctor was trying to say that I am overweight. I don't know if it's the number of times she mentioned I should excercise several times a week, or the number of times she said I could go to their wellness center and talk to the people there to work out a healthy diet, or the number of times she said I could see these people here who were not really personal trainers but they could help me create a work out schedule, or if it was the number of times she said that getting down to my ideal weight would benefit me both physically and mentally. Somewhere in there, I think, she was trying to tell me that I need to lose weight. And she would be right, but I am lazy and comfortable where I am, so don't hold your breath.

The last time I went to the hospital, for my physical (such a lovely time), my blood pressure was way up there - 146/98. My Dad (who was with me) said it was White Coat Shock. Although my impending physical with a Doctor I had never met before was doing nothing to lower my blood pressure, I didn't think the condition White Coat Shock existed. But, as I found out today, I was wrong. It actually does exist and it is one of the driving forces behind the latest fad of home Blood Pressure Checking machines. Apparently these people (myself included?) have normal blood pressures that increase dramatically when they go to the hospital and see doctors in their white coats. How interesting. My at home blood pressure is just below 120/80, so no worries there.

In other news, I am still quite hung up on Ryan Stiles. He is so cute! I haven't any idea why he is so appealing to me now, but I can't help my self! I have to watch him for an hour at eight on BBC America, and then for another hour at ten on ABC Family. And tonight is a three hour marathon of Whose Line is it Anyway? Yay! There is some funny stuff on that show! I can't tell if it's Colin Mochrie's singing about Chip having a small penis or if it's Ryan's singing about Drew Carey being rolled back into the ocean by Greenpeace, or if it's Clive Anderson's little quips about the scoring or the point system. Or maybe it's seeing Wayne act like the entire Klump family from The Nutty Professor, or if it's Colin having to act like a fly, or if it's Ryan acting like a "wary bird trying to build a nest but keeps getting scared away," and then having Jeff try to guess what they all are. Or maybe it's the entire crew acting out a cut scene from Braveheart, where they have to take a shower, and then Colin pipes up with this little granny - scotsman's voice, "Eh, I don't want me freedom." What always gets me is when the actual actors can't help themselves and they start laughing, and then they try to hide it, which just makes it worse, and they end up falling on the floor, clutching their sides trying to breathe. Like when they played the game "dead bodies," where Colin had to act out a scene using the other actors who have mysteriously died, so he just moves them around like manequins while they just flop there - like Steven Frost, whose head just flopped into Ryan's lap (a little higher up, actually) and stayed there, face down, with Ryan trying to maintain the expression of one recently deceased and failing miserably. Whatever it is, I laugh hysterically at it all. I hope they bring the show back (they cancelled it last year).

That's all for now, stay good!

Penelope, and other things...

This morning (before noon) when I awoke, I said that I would not rest tonight until I had taken a picture of Penelope. To refresh your memories, Penelope is the adolescent Canada gosling that is fast approaching adulthood. She still sounds like a gosling, with that peculiar murmuring speech she favors, instead of the distinct (and loud) honks or the funny little grunts that Buddy uses. Penelope has become Buddy's shadow, following Buddy everywhere except near a human or near my dog Scrappy. I had to inch my way toward her, on my belly, just to get this picture, but I think it was worth it. Isn't she cute?

In other news, my parents are making pickles, which means that the house smells (cough: reeks) of vinegar and vomit. Oh, and squash. I am not a big fan of squash - I can stand it, and I would eat it were I starving on some desert island. But I do not favor it, and I really don't like the smell of it cooking. I should explain: My dad has a garden full, FULL of squash - pie squash, yellow squash, and zucchini, and then some cucumbers (hence the pickling). Every day he comes down the hill with a three gallon bucket full of squash and cucumbers and tomatoes (I don't like the smell of tomatoes cooking either, by the by). But I did make a thing of fresh spaghetti sauce the other day, and boy was it good! But anyway, all that squash has to be put up in the freezer, which involves frying it first, else when you defrost it, it will look, well, squashed. So every day dad fries squash. Yick.

Also, I did see Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, and I LOVED it! I thought it was hilarious and touching and full of the very best things (aka Johnny Depp). That's I all have to say about it, except to urge every one to go and see it!

What Snoo With You?

So it's been a week and some change since I last posted, and I'm sure that y'all have enjoyed the reprieve nicely. But, all good things must come to an end and my friend, the end is here. I have a lot to say, so I'll start at the beginning, on last Friday.

I was awoken out of a peaceful six-hour slumber by my Father asking me if I was planning on going to my Mom's work to help out with some office decorating. I replied in the affirmative and readied myself in record time. I grabbed my bag of coloring utensils, some posterboard, and a book (Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban - my favorite out of the series), and off we went. You see, many nights before this, my mom brought up the subject of a spare Christmas tree in the lobby of Carteret Community College (her place of employment). Every department had picked a month to take charge of the tree and to decorate it with a theme from their office. July was my mom's office's month - the business office. When this subject was broached while we were dining at a fabulous little Mexican restaurant called El Cerro, I started listing possible themes and then coming up with unique ideas for decorations. That was my first mistake. A piece of advice my dad often gives that dates back to his days in boot camp is this: never be first, never be last, and never volunteer. The idea is that the person who is first, last, or volunteers is the easiest to take the piss out of. Well, I guess I must have volunteered, because a month and a week later, my mom (out of the blue, mind you) asks me what supplies I need to make the decorations for her offices tree, and would I mind going into work with her tomorrow to put the tree together? Did I really have a choice? So, I went to her office, sat behind a desk for hours, letting my creative side take full rein, and I produced pretty things with little tidbits of information about her office on them. I made several poinsettas, a lighthouse that read "136 purchase orders," and many other things, thorougly covered in glitter glue. After that, I used a roll of red ribbon (say that one five times fast!) to make several bows, and then lettered "red tape" down the tails of each. I then used a roll of that paper that goes in calculators and receipt machines to make a number nine pinch twist bow (a really big, loopy bow) for the crown of the tree. My mom put silver tissue paper through the shredder for tinsel, and then took the remaining paper and made snowflakes. I made a sign that read "The business office presents ... Working in a Paper Wonderland." How cute. When it was all said and put together, it was after eight pm, and my mom was still required to be there to do something about this big ($35,000 big) discrepancy in the end of the fiscal year budget, once her boss (the complete wanker, I don't like her at all) made some sort of decision with the people in Raleigh and someone else. We didn't get home until after ten, but that tree sure looked nice!

Saturday we all woke up early (before eight) and threw some things together, piled into the van, and made our merry way on down to Charleston, SC. When we arrived, around 3:30, we were warmly greeted by Darren and Kim, and then sat down to a nice family conversation. We talked and talked and I think we talked (I shouldn't have waited so long to blog because I can't quite remember what happened), and then we ate some rotisserie chicken with some good sides. And then we played Scattergories for twelve rounds. I believe either Kim or mom won (the guys didn't stand a chance) and then it was off to bed. Oh, Kim and Darren have new sofas that recline, a beautiful coffee table, and a lovely china hutch (if that is what it is called) and table set- I especially loved the dining room furniture - they're so beachy and gorgeous!

Sunday we woke up to grits, eggs, bacon, and toast, and then we decided to take a drive down to a country cider store, Parris Island, and then to Yemassee. At the country store, it was very quaint and very crowded. They had tons of free samples out and I tried all of the ciders and some of the preserves. I wanted to buy a thing of peach cider, but my dad stepped in and bought it for me (how sweet). We made out with a thing of peach and a thing of cherry cider, and one thing of pure cane syrup. Then it was off to Parris Island, home of the Marine Corps Boot Camp (I don't know what else to call it). Both of my parents went through Boot Camp here, my Dad in 1963 and my Mom in 1980. We drove around for a bit on the base. My Dad told us how when he got on the bus to go to boot camp, he was hungover but he didn't realize that the hangover was over until six weeks later, when he realized that the hell he was in had nothing to do with alcohol. We watched new recruits run in formation all around the base, led by these two, tiny DS's (they couldn't have been over five feet, surrounded by recruits that were well over six feet). We toured the museum, which was halfway closed off because the air conditioning was broken. I couldn't figure how a lack of air conditioning would keep Marines from functioning, but it did. The guide was somewhat elderly and would not stop talking for the life of ya. We stood there waiting for him to get on with what he was saying, and he just kept changing the topic over and over again, bless his heart. We then went to the PX and the Commissary, bought some food and libations, and headed over to Yemassee. Now, you might ask, what the hell is so special about Yemassee? Well, have you ever seen Forrest Gump? I've never seen him, but I have seen the movie, and movie buff that I am, I looked up some trivia on the movie a long while back. Did you know that the Skeleton Key was filmed in the same house that Forrest Gump was filmed in?And did you know that the house that Forrest Gump was filmed in is in Yemassee, SC? Well it is! So, we drove to Yemassee to see Forrest Gump's house. Along the way, my Dad pointed out a lot of things he remembered from being stationed near there when he got back from Vietnam, in 1967. One of them was the ruins of this here church. Aren't they magnificent? He told us about these ruins he remembered and then bam! There it was on the side of the road. We pulled over, squeezed out of the van (there was barely a foot of clearance between the van and the road). I took some pictures while we all just walked around. It really was something. Apparently, it was built in the colonial times, burned to the ground, rebuilt in the early 1800's, and then burnt to the ground again. I guess it just wasn't meant to be. Then we drove on the the main town of Yemassee, which consisted of two tiny streets, and then the residential sections. I thought the house was on Yemassee road/street/lane/whatever, but I was wrong. We stopped at a gas station for directions, and the third person that Darren asked knew exactly where the house was. We followed his directions (turn left here, hang a right there, say a hail mary here, and do three doughnuts). We were driving on this long, forested road for a long time when we decided that maybe we had gone wrong. We crossed the Combahee river, which is pronounced like my last name, and came to Floyd's something or other. Darren, the good sport that he is, got out and asked for directions. The woman at the store said she had not see the Motion Picture Forrest Gump (in a very, very heavy accent). So we turned around and drove around some more, while Darren used his phone to search out an address. We ended up going in some big circles, driving down someone's private and very long driveway just to find out that it wasn't the right one, and turning around to high tail it out. Finally, we stopped at the same conveniece store that we stopped at in the first place, my Dad got out and asked for directions, and we ended up with a personal escort to the road that the house was on: Combahee Rd. Darren was able to find an address: Bluff plantation, 3547 Combahee Rd, etc, etc. We made it to Combahee road, which we would have found had we just driven a lot further down the first road we turned back on, and we drove and drove and drove. It is a long, long, long road. But things were starting to look up. We finally saw a sign that said "Bluff Plantation." We stopped and looked. The driveway was blocked and marked as private, and it was so long that you couldn't see the end of it, nor could you see the house, but it was the driveway! It was Forrest Gump's driveway, I tell you. We stood right where both little Forrests get on the bus for the first time! After upwards of two hours of searching, we found it! There was the oak tree that Jenny and Forrest were like peas and carrots in, and there was the tree that Jenny was burried under! I was in shock, so I didn't get but these two pictures (stupid Jessica, stupid!!). We returned to Charleston for dinner and conversation. One conversation was about a dream that Kim had had the night prior. Apparently Mom, Dad, me, Becca, Rob, and Kim were all downstairs talking and having a good time. I must take a moment to say to Kim that I will probably butcher her dream, so please correct me when you can. Darren was upstairs. Everything was fine until some woman came to the house, asked to see Darren, and climbed upstairs with never a by-you-leave. Kim went upstairs to find Darren kissing this woman (she described how quite well). When we five found out about this, we were so very quick join Kim's side and scorn Darren. Apparently Becca was pissed and upset and couldn't believe it. Dad was spitting mad. And I immediately charged upstairs to physically take care of Darren. I don't know what was funnier - the fact that we all turned against Darren, that I was the one to threaten to beat the living daylights out of him, or that Kim kept mock glaring at Darren as if he had really committed that heinous act. Whatever it was, it was hilarious. So, after a dinner of excellent leftovers, and some more conversation centered on the game "worst scenario," we went to bed.

I was awoken before eight, once more, and told to get ready, which I did. We then said our goodbyes (although I hope not for long), and made our way back to North Carolina on Hwy 17. The trip was uneventful in and of itself. Once home, Dad and I went to the wildlife shelter and picked up a Canada Goose to adopt. She is practically full grown, with all of her feathers and only little bit of down left. Her foot was broken, so the shelter set it to rights and then passed her on to us. Dad wanted to give her a girl's name, and so he came up with Penelope. Penelope has a slight, barely noticeable limp, and makes Buddy look positively graceful by comparison. Penelope does not leave Buddy's side, but rather follows her around all day, into the water, out of the water, over to the fig trees, back to the house, and so on. I am hoping that she won't be so afraid of humans and dogs after a bit, but as of now, she won't come near us. I haven't taken a picture of her yet, but I will soon.

We watched a Bill Cosby comedy routine the other night and were thoroughly entertained. It is amazing how clean comedy can be and still be effective. He said that while his wife was giving birth to their first child, she had the nerve to tell everybody in the room that his parents were not married! What a creative way to say that she called him a Bastard! And then he said that when he was growing up, he thought his name was Jesus Christ, and his brother's name was Dammit, because that is what his father always called them. "Jesus Christ, put that down! Dammit, come here!" And then one day, when Bill was climbing a tree, his father came outside and yelled, "Dammit, get down from there!" Bill looked around in confusion and said that his brother was in the house.

On a related note, we have taken to watching Whose Line is it Anyway every night at 8 on the BBC America Channel. I have to admit, I have developed somewhat of a ...thing for Ryan Stiles. I mean, he's so cute! I can't help it! He's funny, he's got a fast sense of humor, with a dirty mind, and he's very easy on the eyes. He's perfect! Not to mention that he is five, only five days younger that Sean Bean! I really cannot stop thinking about Ryan Stiles! Who cares if I am barely twenty, I just have a thing for older men. I can't help it! I've developed a block in regards to liking men closer to my age. I watched Troy, and who was I distracted by? Orlando Bloom? Puh-lease. Eric Bana? Keep dreaming. Brad Pitt? No way. I was distracted by Sean Bean, the man with the smallest part of those four actors, but the handsomest face and the smoothest, most sinfully wonderful voice. I saw Van Helsing and who caught my eye? Hugh Jackman, the main character? Nope - Richard Roxburgh, as Dracula - a very old guy (400 years!). I just have some sort of problem with today's young actors. Shane West, Topher Grace, Tobey Mcguire, Sean Michael Murry, Orlando Bloom, and others just don't tickle my pickle. Sean Bean, Johnny Depp, Ryan Stiles, Richard Roxburgh, Oded Fehr, and others have almost twenty years on those young whippersnappers, and yet they are all I can think about. But hey, I'll think about them any time, day or night.