On Saturday afternoon, my wife and I took our 3-year-old to see Peter Rabbit at Westwood Plaza Theatre. Please enjoy my fatherly observations:
1. Bottomless popcorn for humans is the equivalent of a garden without a gate for hares. Neither species can resist.
2. Sam Neill stars as Mr. McGregor. 25 years ago, he was Dr. Alan Grant in Jurassic Park. He can survive a jungle full of dinosaurs, but he perishes from a persistent bunny rabbit (spoiler).
3. Placing a candle on a table and getting food is a genius concept. My wife and I wish the Plaza Theatre's magic would work at home. Light a candle and within 15 minutes, someone puts food on the table. Also, when food is thrown on the floor, we don't pick it up. We simply leave and go on with our day.
4. If one of my neighbors would decide to move, I want Rose Byrne to buy their house. She plays Bea. She is hillarious and I love her accent.
5. I don't know why pink lemonade outclasses lemonade, but it does. Bottomless pink lemonade is the...(see #1)
6. When arriving in the theatre with a 3-year-old, it is important to play mathematical defense. We had 4 in our party ( 2 parents, a grandmother, and the 3-year-old). The calculation is for every person in your cinematic experience you multiple by 2. Thus, we need 8 seats. Our 3-year-old did not sit in any of them.
7. Peter Rabbit has some high quality action sequences. I don't get out much, so Peter Rabbit action sequences really did provide a thrill.
8. Kids love fictitious electrocution. (Spoiler) There is a lot of jolts in the film and the young crowd loved each and every shock.
9. I doubt the rooster will get an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor, but the movie's dive into the psyche of a male chicken at sunrise is outstanding.
10. Our daughter had two potty breaks during the film and politely asked to "pause" Peter Rabbit during the first bathroom trip. Get off the potty and your high horse.
Saturday, February 17, 2018
Sunday, February 11, 2018
Accumulation
As snowfall accumulated this Johnstown February, I eyed spring. It was time for winter cleaning. The snow takes its toll, but I sometimes feel buried by things and stuff. When you combine snow with things and stuff, you have a recipe for a demolition.
Having too much stuff is a first world problem. Being overwhelmed by overabundance is the world I am living in. The positive in this situation is that giving things away and letting stuff go provides a touch of health for those of us with blessings of wealth. My wife and I are on a systematic annihilation of accumulation. She recently attended a decluttering workshop at Our Mother of Sorrows parish. On that same day, I watched a minimalism documentary. And... away...we...go.
Stuff adds up quickly when you keep things. Over the summer, I began my own decluttering effort. I realized that The Tribune Democrat was not going to do a feature story on my Little League career (All Star 10 year old, 11 year old, 12 year old). I would not need to show visual evidence of my days on the diamond. The trophies were tossed. My wife's swimming hardware took a dumpster dive this weekend. Imprisoned in cardboard boxes, the trophies have transitioned to somewhere better. And then the T-shirts...
My walk-in closet became more walk-able. A man need not keep this many T-shirts. At one point in my 1st world life, I clung to the sentimental value of some of these Ts as stains and dust clung to them. Eventually, I identified that folding old, unwearable T-shirts was insane. Dad had to let go of race, sports, and vacation T-shirts. When you have a category of "vacation T-shirts", it is time to change your life.
The kids don't see the comedy in all this. They also don't see the garbage bags full of toys I have removed from the home. If the Internet still exists in the future, and my girls read this blog, they can debate over whether my top secret removal of duplicate stuffed animals was just. My hope is that someone in town is inheriting stuff and things they need. Some of my stuff might end up in someone else's cardboard box in the basement or squeezed into an attic crevice, but alas, it is not on my plot of land.
The upcoming season of Lent is often thought of as a time to give something up, or as a time to eat more fish. For me, letting stuff go and throwing things out started well before Lent, and I imagine will continue. The minimalism documentary showed me that there is a range to the art of simplifying one's life. I don't need 100 T-shirts, but having only 2 doesn't sound or smell right.
What I will hold on to is memories. My daughter and I assembled a neighborhood team and built a snowwoman 6+ feet high this February. We placed a bicycle beside her. She had a helmet, pink golf ball eyes, and a Swedish fish mouth- a Swedish, snowwoman cyclist. Not much of her was left today. My daughter did decide to take one of her golf balls eyes into the bath tub this fine evening. Obviously, the snowwoman didn't need it anymore and the ball was dirty.
I imagine my wife hitting that pink ball into the woods one day. I'll smile. One less thing in our house.
I love my life and the people in it. Goodbye, stuff and things. Accumulate somewhere else. Hurry up, Spring.
Having too much stuff is a first world problem. Being overwhelmed by overabundance is the world I am living in. The positive in this situation is that giving things away and letting stuff go provides a touch of health for those of us with blessings of wealth. My wife and I are on a systematic annihilation of accumulation. She recently attended a decluttering workshop at Our Mother of Sorrows parish. On that same day, I watched a minimalism documentary. And... away...we...go.
Stuff adds up quickly when you keep things. Over the summer, I began my own decluttering effort. I realized that The Tribune Democrat was not going to do a feature story on my Little League career (All Star 10 year old, 11 year old, 12 year old). I would not need to show visual evidence of my days on the diamond. The trophies were tossed. My wife's swimming hardware took a dumpster dive this weekend. Imprisoned in cardboard boxes, the trophies have transitioned to somewhere better. And then the T-shirts...
My walk-in closet became more walk-able. A man need not keep this many T-shirts. At one point in my 1st world life, I clung to the sentimental value of some of these Ts as stains and dust clung to them. Eventually, I identified that folding old, unwearable T-shirts was insane. Dad had to let go of race, sports, and vacation T-shirts. When you have a category of "vacation T-shirts", it is time to change your life.
The kids don't see the comedy in all this. They also don't see the garbage bags full of toys I have removed from the home. If the Internet still exists in the future, and my girls read this blog, they can debate over whether my top secret removal of duplicate stuffed animals was just. My hope is that someone in town is inheriting stuff and things they need. Some of my stuff might end up in someone else's cardboard box in the basement or squeezed into an attic crevice, but alas, it is not on my plot of land.
The upcoming season of Lent is often thought of as a time to give something up, or as a time to eat more fish. For me, letting stuff go and throwing things out started well before Lent, and I imagine will continue. The minimalism documentary showed me that there is a range to the art of simplifying one's life. I don't need 100 T-shirts, but having only 2 doesn't sound or smell right.
What I will hold on to is memories. My daughter and I assembled a neighborhood team and built a snowwoman 6+ feet high this February. We placed a bicycle beside her. She had a helmet, pink golf ball eyes, and a Swedish fish mouth- a Swedish, snowwoman cyclist. Not much of her was left today. My daughter did decide to take one of her golf balls eyes into the bath tub this fine evening. Obviously, the snowwoman didn't need it anymore and the ball was dirty.
I imagine my wife hitting that pink ball into the woods one day. I'll smile. One less thing in our house.
I love my life and the people in it. Goodbye, stuff and things. Accumulate somewhere else. Hurry up, Spring.
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