Well I'm not surprised to be in the minority about this, seeing as when we do stay through the credits we're almost always the only ones left.
And I agree there's no need to know the names of who found all the horses, and the name of the guy who made sure nobody hurt them. But, a movie is typically a social event, one that oddly you can't communicate during.
The credits on the other hand, are the perfect time to still be immersed in the feel of the movie, and yet be able to talk to the others you're with about how the movie was, time to start formulating in your head if you liked it or not and why, how it should've or could've been etc. And if it was just a really good movie it gives you time to come back to reality slowly and relive its glory. So that's why I like to watch the credits, and to each his own, because as Meghan mentioned, I love that everyone leaves and lets you have the theater to yourself.
After realizing I no longer worked for the church, and that I'm now living in a house with my wife and kid at the tender age of 15, I decided something had to be done. It was time to grow a beard. You know, like the ones that church employees and bishopric members aren't allowed to have. Yeah, that's the kind.
Now, I know what you're thinking, that I'll never be quite as sexy as Robert Downey Jr. in Ironman, but I think I'm ok with that. You'll have to let me know if it does the trick, or if I just look like one of those high school kids who could grow a beard.
Recently, while walking to the street to fetch our garbage can, I saw two men in uniform approaching the house. At first I thought they were postmen, but I couldn't figure out why there were two of them. Regardless, I stared intently at my garbage can hoping to avoid an awkward conversation. As I got to it though one of them spoke up asking how I was. I responded with the usual 'good,' further wondering why the postmen were initiating conversation. Then he asked, "Hey, are your parents home?" I sighed to myself, and I was this close to keeping it simple by saying my parents weren't home (which was technically true as they have their own house now that I think about it) figuring that would make them not want to sell me something. But instead I told them, "Actually, this is my house." Very startled but quick on the uptake he said "Oh, so you're the 15 year old man then?" "Yeah... yeah that's me." Anyway, then they got down to business and tried to sell me some Schwan dinners.
On my way back to the house I recalled running an errand for my sick wife and wondered if they carded everyone else who bought cold medicine, or just us punk teenagers.
These two ladies are some of my very best friends. The one on the left is Karyn, I feel like I have known her all my life...it's been 7 years. She is the only person to date that has crossed my work-friend barrier. For whatever reason I make friends at work, but I rarely, if ever, do anything with them outside of work. Karyn is the one exception. I met her while I was working at South Davis Community Hospital. She was another CNA that was extraordinarily friendly and someone so sincere, I felt comfortable around her instantly. We both got into Weber State's Nursing program the same year. Then we became school friends. (I had stopped working at SDCH). Then, she became my roommate. I'm not going to lie, even though I loved Karyn, I was a little nervous to live with her. You just never know how your personal lives will fit together. I was lucky and we fit with ease. (At least in my mind, you never know if it was easy or difficult for Karyn to live with me). And we've been friends ever since. She's someone that I know I can share anything with, and she won't judge me, she'll just listen, try to offer advice if she's got it. Or she'll honestly tell me she doesn't know what I should do. It's nice to be told that you're not the only one who's clueless sometimes.
The woman in the middle is Marianne. She's the reason we got together today. It was her birthday last week, and we always try to find time to get together for the birthday celebration. Marianne was also one of my roommates. I got lucky with her too. She had moved in and I think I must have been working all weekend, because I didn't meet her for several days. When I did we talked as if we were old friends. Sharing moments in our lives that normally wouldn't have been shared for months, if not years. There's always been an unspoken understanding between us.
When the three of us lived together we were more than roommates. We were a family. I'm so grateful that we've been able to maintain our friendships. It might be months between visits, but every time we get together...we just settle in like we never left...like it's old times.
Alright, here's the question I have for all of you. When you are watching a movie, whether it is at the theater or at home...do you watch the credits? Does it make a difference where you are? If you are at the theater do you watch the credits but at home you don't?
More importantly...do you NEED to watch the credits...as part of a "cool down" from the movie?
Alex and I had a "discussion" about this tonight. I hate watching the credits, but if I'm in a theater then I'll stay (begrudgingly) only because I don't want to join the sheep leaving the theater...I like to walk out on my own pace. But when I am home, there is absolutely no reason to sit there and read the names of people I don't care about.
Alex on the other hand feels incomplete if he doesn't get to watch the credits. He needs his "cool down" as he puts it.
So I was wondering how many of you out there are like Alex. Or how many of you are sane like me? :) Please feel free to cast your vote in the comments
Alex and I went to a Murder Mystery last weekend. It was themed in the 1920's. I went as a flapper and Alex was a poker player. Big thanks goes out to my mom for helping me find a costume at the last minute. She's amazing, she really is. I would have walked right past the dress, which was perfect, (and modest...which...really, how often do you come across a modest flapper dress?) Then she helped me with the accessories, making the headband for me and everything. It makes me wonder if I'll ever be as resourceful and crafty as my mother. She really has a knack for it.
I had researched on the internet how to do my makeup and hair to look authentic 1920's. I really just have too long of hair for their styles, but the makeup I could handle. It's really dark smokey eyes and seriously red lips. So I went all out with the makeup, and it was fun, in my own home with just Alex as a witness.
But then we had to go, and I had to leave the comfort of my own home...and the lack of an audience. It hadn't occurred to me how shy and uncomfortable I would feel dressed up like this with people around. Now I know why I don't do theater. It took all of my power to walk through the front door of the party....and even more to walk up the stairs to where people were. I literally hid in a corner at the bottom of the stairs for a moment or two, trying to talk myself into moving.
Once everyone had reacted to my costume, and the attention was turned elsewhere, I was okay. But a while later, the rest of the group came, and my hyper-awareness returned full force. And once again, once the reactions where over, I was able to forget how I looked and enjoyed myself. I was a fun night. You can't see how dark my makeup really was in these pictures, but trust me, it was extreme!
Thanks again for your help mom, everyone loved the get up, the stockings were a big hit too! (You can't see them in the picture, but they were a modern version of fishnets).
Evan's bumbo arrived yesterday. I've been anxiously waiting for a week now. (those who know me well know that I am not a very patient person). I just couldn't wait for Evan to try it out. He's still a little wobbley, but with the bumbo being the perfect shape that it is, he did just fine. It was so fun to see him look at his world from this new view. Because even though I would have him sit up on my lap, this was the first time he was sitting up "independantly"...and he loved it. When I put the tray on and placed his Olephant on top...well, you can see his face. He couldn't stop staring at it. Later I placed a rattle and it was so rewarding to see him trying so hard to control his hands to grasp the rattle. He was so focused, moving little fingers...throwing his arm around with a little too much force...but he finally got it. I was so proud of him, he didn't seem to react once he finally got it, but I'd like to think he was pleased with himself also. It makes me feel good to provide a way for him to progress.
This past week Evan has really discovered his feet. When he's laying on his back, I'll pull his feet up within his sight and then pretend to eat them. I've done this for a while now...but just this past week he seems to have noticed. He stares at his feet, very curious, and giggles when I eat them. It's been a blast for me. So I guess I shouldn't be surprised that he was so focused on looking at his feet in the Bumbo. Once I took the tray off and he looked down, I couldn't get him to look up again. He was just staring at his feet, watching them move. (Who knows if he was moving them on purpose, but they were a-movin). I'm so excited for what this chair will add to his life. What skills he will develop. I just can't believe how much he's grown! He's become such a mini-person. I love it!
I know many of you may think that statement contradicts my usual philosophy on life, but I have found that there are times when it is just better to lie.
As everyone knows it was Election Day on Tuesday. I wanted to participate, take part in the privilege and opportunity I have to vote, a privilege that I am so grateful to have. I had worked the night before and was unsure when I should vote. I knew that I wouldn't be in the mood to wait for hours, let alone 20 minutes if I hadn't slept...but I wasn't sure how the lines would be later in the day either. I had heard the nightmare stories from those who had gone to vote early. So I decided to stop by the elementary where I was supposed to vote, and if the lines weren't too long, I'd stay and then go straight to bed.
Location: Meadowbrook Elementary
I walk in, see no signs directing me where to vote. I am unsure that this even is Meadowbrook, see a display case with the words Meadowbrook, continue to wander aimlessly. Find the GYM, see the voting tables and walk to the one marked A-K. I see the Bishop's wife from my old ward, say hi and state my name. She asked for my address, I look down, see my old address listed...I just moved a few weeks ago remember. So I say, foolishly "Well, for you guys it's 340 North..." and then I am cut off. I don't know what I was thinking. I didn't want to lie, because I knew that she knew I had moved. I thought she'd correct me if I lied, or that I might get "in trouble" for giving false information. I should have lied.
I am sent to another table to register with my new address. They ask me for my drivers license...ask if it has the current address, and I say no. They ask for proof of residency, which I don't have. They look at me like I'm crazy when I tell them I don't have proof of residency with me, and ask if I live far. They tell me all I need is a utility bill with my name and address and to come back to that table. So I go home.
Location: My home
I'm not terribly tired yet, so I go home, tell my husband and son about my silly decision to be honest and debate whether I want to go back or not before I've slept. I decide to just get it over with because there were no other voters! It was stranded and I figured this was the best time to do it. Luckily we had a utility bill in the house with my name on it so I go back to the school.
Location: Meadowbrook Elementary
I go directly to the registration table, greet the same two ladies as 15 minutes before and show them my utility bill. They ask me to find my address on a map. I do and they state that I'm not even in this district and I need to go elsewhere to vote. I look at them blankly, starting to feel the effects of staying up all night, wondering if they are really serious. Then they tell me that I should have told them my address before I left so that they could have checked what district I am in. *sigh* Yes, I suppose I should have. So they give me the address of the next school I need to go to.
Location: my car
Another debate in my mind as to whether I should continue to vote before I sleep. I'm a little frustrated, and preparing to be really angry if there is a long line. I'm also silently cursing the rain and my now thoroughly soaked scrubs, luckily scrubs are meant to dry quickly.
Location: Washington Elementary
I walk in and I am pleased to immediately see signs telling me where to go. I walk into the lunch room where there are crowds and crowds of children eating and am directed to the registration table. I lay my bill and drivers license on the desk and tell her that I recently moved and need to register.
"Do you have your drivers license?" I hand her my license AND my bill. "Is this your current address?" "Oh, is that why you have your bill?"
I guess my voice was showing my frustration and fatigue because she then tried to explain why it is better for me to register now so that they will know where I live, so they can send me my registration card. (Who cares if the government knows where I live). "I noticed you are unaffiliated. Would you like to become a member of the Republican party?" *Smile*
A frown comes to her face, "Would you like to say that you are a Democrat?"
A confused look, more frowning..."So, then....you're neither?"
"That's correct" (Isn't that what unaffiliated means!!!!?)
So finally she hands me my ballot that I fill out like a scan tron in high school, then tells me to wait two weeks, call such-and-such number to find out if my vote counted!! That's right. I might have gone through all of this hassle, and it might not have even counted!!! I might have forgotten some box of information, or who knows what. *sigh*
And I thought honesty was the best policy. Clearly I was wrong.
Most of you have seen my son's skin. It's red and inflamed, a little bit scaly. It's never been the "soft as a baby's bottom" skin that I was expecting. I had tried several things to clear it up, new laundry detergent, different soaps and lotions, and none of it was working. A call to the pediatrician was made, a suggestion was made, and two weeks later Evan's skin was no better.
So Alex took him in to see the pediatrician, who said that "it's not the worst case of eczema I've seen, but it's right up there." He didn't really need to inspect Evan, he could tell from across the room. (Poor kid) So he recommended a Rx cream and changing to soy based formula. (yuck) Normally he doesn't like to do two things at once, but he wanted to get the eczema under control first, and worry about what caused it later. And even though I don't think it's a milk allergy, I am willing to give it a try.
It's been two days that we've been putting the cream on Evan's skin, and just look at his face! It's still not "baby soft" but at least it's not red and scaly!! It looks wonderful! I'm hoping that once his skin is under control, I won't be using the Rx very often, just for breakouts, but I am grateful that there is something that works.
And in case you were wondering, it's been one day on soy formula, and it stinks...and makes my baby's breath smell funny. *sigh* I agreed to try it and I will, I just hope we can get through this quickly.
And how do I know this you ask? The same way I know bacon is good for me (not to mention superior to all other foods and the meat of the gods). You see, bacon tastes good, which is my body rewarding me for giving it the foods it needs and deserves. With this same logic; slouching feels good, which is my body rewarding me for giving it the rest it needs and deserves.