True Grittier

It's time once again for my totally unqualified, totally random movie review.

This past Christmas weekend the husband and I had one last opportunity for a date night before his boarding a plane for places less American, so we decided on the classic dinner-and-a-movie combo.  I, being the completely off-the-charts awesome wife that I am, let him choose the movie.  Mostly because I knew he was going to choose the new "True Grit", and I wanted to see it, too.  I was a fan of the John Wayne version as a kid, as well as the follow up, "Rooster Cogburn", and I'd heard surprisingly good things about the remake.

In a nutshell, it was a VERY good flick.  The casting was superb.  The dialog witty.  The filming gritty and at the same time artful.  And, perhaps the best gauge for rating a movie - I'd like to see it again.  It's got to be downright difficult to take an already good movie and redo it, keep the story the same, yet improve it enough to reach the status of being an excellent stand-alone film.

Of course, upon my discussion of the film with hubby, I had to voice a few complaints.

#1) This first complaint has nothing to do with the actual movie, it just deserves a rant.  Either more idiots are attending the movies, or we have insanely poor seating choice.  The last three movies we've attended we've sat in close vicinity to Professional Talkers, who insist on practicing their craft throughout the movie.  True Grit was no exception, as the folks behind us not only insisted on talking, but narrating.  In addition, one lady found it necessary to repeat every funny piece of dialog throughout her narration.

#2)  I had to wonder if it really is possible to cut all of a person's fingers off with a knife in one big chop.  Hubby voted yes, on the condition that the knife was sharp enough and had enough mass. I still vote no.  Maybe one finger and deep deep deep cuts to the rest.  Maybe all fingers with a hatchet.  And, maybe if the knife is brandished point down in a more powerful grip.  But I am dubious this feat can actually be achieved with a large knife wielded in the position one would assume if they were cutting bread.

Mythbusters may prove me wrong on this point, but I remain a Doubting Thomas.

#3)  I was hoping this remake would somehow replace the big snake-bite scene with something better.  I'm partial to snakes, and it hurts my heart when movies take an irrational fear - such as the one most people have of snakes - and use it as a story prop.  By taking this avenue, numerous snake myths are prolonged and accepted as universal truths:

Snakes Are Scary And We Should Shoot Them All.


Of Course Snakes Like To Hide In Dead Bodies.  Because They're Evil.


You Should ALWAYS Cut On The Bite And Suck The Poison.  Everyone Knows That.


Once You Disturb A Snake Out Of A Hibernation-Induced Stupor, They Are Never Sluggish And Don't Want To Hide Or Avoid Conflict - They Will Instead Move With Lightening Speed And Will Stop At Nothing To Bite You Viciously And For No Good Reason.  Because They're Evil.

It's safe to say I could've done without that scene.  Regardless, I'll probably buy it, and It'll become a favorite in our collection.

Digital Christmas

My Personal Battle with Spandaphobia

I posted a few months back about my incessant drooling over purchasing a new mountain bike in order to replace my old clunker, and to take advantage of the awesomeness that is the local biking trails. I must say, I'm not a huge fan of Little Rock so far, but the excellent biking opportunities are really softening my harsh attitude toward the area.

Recently, I finally procured my new mountain bike.  Turns out my new job at the bike shop, which comes with some pretty perky perks, enables me to do a one-time-a-year employee purchase directly from the factory.  I'm guessing the Big Bike Guys figure that if we salespersons are going to plug their bikes, it's better that we experience them first-hand.  I couldn't agree more.  It also meant that a MUCH better bike now fit into my self-imposed new mountain bike allowance, and I spent several weeks giddily trying to make a choice (which nearly drove the hubby bonkers).

In the end, after much agonizing deliberation, I ended up with the carbon-frame, full-suspension, 29" wheel (as opposed to the 26" wheels mountain bikes used to have), Specialized "Epic" Comp.

I must say, the name "Epic" is a truly perfect name for this bike.  It's...well...EPIC.  I've been out on the trails a few times now, and love the bike more every time I ride it.  I'm also kicking myself for letting life get in the way and missing out on years enjoying this sport.

However, there is one thing I'm not loving so much - biking attire.  Back in the day when I dabbled in trail riding, out of a desire for modesty, I wore padded riding spandex shorts with baggy gym shorts over the top. But now, it seems, most bikers just wear the spandex shorts, or in cold weather, long tights. I've gotten used to people coming into the shop wearing their riding gear, or as one old guy termed them, "Ridin' britches."

At first I was resistant to wearing spandex, at least without something over the top.  "So my butt and thighs are just going to be hanging out there?"

"Oh come on...don't be a Spandaphobe.  Nobody wears pants - dress for the sport!", I was told with eye rolls and contempt.

And it's true...in the biking magazines, as well as in snapshots displayed around the shop, all the photos of riders and racers show them wearing only spandex, and looking pretty cool.  But coolness isn't the only reason - wearing baggy shorts can be a liability, getting caught on various bike parts or trail obstructions.  Lastly, there is also comfort in numbers - if you're around others in nothing but their ridin' britches, you tend to feel less conspicuous.  You are now a part of a herd. 

And so, crumbling under the peer pressure, I've now entered the realm of people who wear spandex in public.  Swimmers.  Ballerinas.  The actors in the new Tron movie.  Extremely obese women driving those little carts through Wal-Mart.  But lately I suffered a blow to my growing spandex confidence, when I took a ride in Burns Park located just outside of post, and realized once I got close to the post gate that I'd forgotten my military I.D....which meant I had to leave the comfort of the car and walk into the visitor center, in my riding tights, with no extra duds to throw over the top, and nobody with me to offer strength in numbers.

I attempted to be nonchalant, but my conversation with the base cop who was waiting to hear the reason I was standing there, sheepish and uncomfortable, at the (very low) desk went something like this:

"Um...we live here, but I forgot my I.D...Um...I was out riding...riding my bike...which is why I'm dressed like this.  Really."

"Is that warm enough?"

"Oh yeah.  But I should probably throw some pants in the car.  Or not forget my I.D."

"Probably."


In any case, I'm probably just going to have to get over my Spandaphobia.  My brother suggested the possible addition of a cape to go with the tights - just to give people something else to focus on, and to look that much cooler. Might not be a bad idea.

"Then it’s hi! hi! hey! The Army’s on its way!"

I know, I know....I'm a bad bad blogger.  I consider myself properly chastised by impatient readers. My excuse is that the past few months have been beyond hectic, with last-ditch attempts to get our house somewhat under control, and trying to prepare for my husband's deployment - the first deployment during our marriage.  I'm afraid blogging fell by the wayside for a while.

Now, however, the good Major is on his last leg of training before heading east....extremely east. When the average "civilian" thinks of a soldier's deployment, what most commonly comes to mind is the image of the brave soldier stepping on the bus, waving goodbye to loved ones before heading off into the sunset.  In actuality, a deployment starts waaaaaay before the troops actually board the bus or plane, with months and months of prep, training, work, and worry - especially when said husband is the Operations Officer, which I've discovered the hard way is the most labor-intensive duty in the whole deployment she-bang.

While outwardly brushing off those offers of sincerest wife-of-a-husband-deployed sympathies, I've found myself popping awake in the wee hours of the morning playing the "what if" game, ranging from the probable to the absolutely ridiculous, trying to run through every possible scenario I may have to handle.

 "What if a pipe bursts?"


"What if the fridge breaks?"


"What if the roof falls in?"


"What if I suddenly develop unexplained and total amnesia?"


"What if I'm attacked by rabid garden gnomes?"

I'm a little surprised at myself, having been a capable, independent, single woman for so long before getting hitched. Having been married for a few years, while I still think of myself as independent, I'm surprised to see how much couples come to rely on each other, and that you really do become a true team.  Now my teammate has been called up to the majors for a while, and I'm finding my way back to self-reliance.  It's kind of weird and a little disorienting.

It really makes me appreciate the sacrifices made by soldiers and their families in our country's past. Nowadays we have the benefits of email, world-capable cell phones, and video chat, which will allow us to communicate often and in real-time from half a world away. This of course takes the absence of a loved-one from extreme hardship to temporary and bearable.

In any case, I know that during this deployment, even if the gnomes do attack, the sun will still rise and set, and the world will still turn.  I have loads of projects to keep me busy aside from work, and I plan on tanking up on books and movies.  Once I start having in-depth conversations with the pets, some of you may expect a phone call.