A movie review brought to you by Grandma

Sometimes I feel I am equal parts 5-, 25-, and 85-years-old.

Par example:

Early this afternoon as I was getting ready to meet my friend Tom for lunch, my mom asked me if I wanted to join her and Dad for a movie later in the afternoon. Minutes later, she was on the phone and I whispered, "Is that Dad?"

Then she told Dad to hang on and asked if I wanted to ask him something.

I did, in fact.

"Can Tommy come to the movie too?" I asked.

(This was the 5-year-old in me.)

I went to lunch with Tommy, where we complained about job searching, crankiness as a result of break-up withdrawal, Tom's business plan. You know, grown up, twenty-something topics.

Then we went to see a movie with my 'rents, which I suppose is a mature, 25-year-old activity. Seeing an indie British film with your parents, on a Wednesday afternoon? Sure. We'll call that grown up.

I should probably be fully honest in my disclosure here and mention that after some chatty settling into my movie seat, as Tommy and I exited the theater to get popcorn Dad told me to run off some of my energy before returning to the theater.

So I relapsed for a moment into 5-year-old Bailey. See what I mean? Who am I?!

Okay, I will move us along to the 85-year-old portion of this post shortly, but first we will pause for a movie review.

Today we saw The King's Speech, with Colin Firth, Geoffrey Rush, and Helena Bonham Carter. It is the true story about King George VI and the speech therapist who helped him overcome his struggle with stuttering when he suddenly succeeded his living brother as king during WWII.

Friends, I cannot express enough how much you should go see this film. It was excellent. All four of us loved it. It was a wonderful story of friendship, it was funny, it was touching, terrifically acted. Seriously.

GO. See. It.

And yes, Riley Francis, that was Mr. Desplat's work you heard in the trailer (for those of you who breezed past it without watching the trailer, march your mouse back up to that link and watch it! This is the bossy 5-year-old speaking!). And you would L-O-V-E love the soundtrack as much as you will love the film itself when you

go. See. It.

Okay. Seriously. Go see it. Please. This is coming from a girl who has little patience for movies, and rarely solicits them.

Okay now moving on to the 85-year-old portion of my day.

This evening, while Dad watched TV after dinner, I continued work on my current cross stitch project.

I have been suffering from a mysterious muscle ache in my right hand and it occurred to me just as of late that it could be the result of cross stitching too much.

Last night I also cross stitched in the living room, while Mom and Dad dozed in front of the TV, and BooBoo slept on Mom.

The other day Patrick called and asked what I was doing for the afternoon.

"Well, I just made some tea, I'm gonna cross stitch, and take some ibuprofen because I'm kind of sick."

"That's a grandma afternoon!" he told me. "The highlight of your day is taking some Advil!"

Yes, Patrick, yes.

Well, I quite like my age-confused existence. And why am I not ready to go back to school, aside from the fact that the books and constant reading and writing will soon loom over me again?

Because I'm not done hanging out with my parents, who are my friends. Or our cats.

So there.

Yours truly,

Granny

I Got All my Sistas with Me!

I would be an entirely different person if I had a sister.

Not better, not worse, just so entirely different.

I am fascinated by sister relationships. In a lot of ways I think that they are more difficult and complicated than brother-sister or brother-brother relationships. I truly salute those sisters in the world who try to make their relationships work, who respect each other, honor each other even when it is their instinct to envy one another. In fact I certainly respect all siblings who are truly friends. I realize that is an extremely difficult reality in many cases, and takes many years for most to achieve (and was certainly true of me and my brothers), and I don't have disrespect for those who don't get along with their siblings. But I do think it is so important to keep contact with our brothers and sisters (and if we don't have any, to find surrogate sibs in the world). It's such a unique bond that God has given to us, and I pray for all of you that you can realize and get the opportunity to enjoy that.

So go give your nearest sib a kiss and a hug. (And for those of you without them, call me! Ahem, Braden--you know the number).

Reely, Patrick? Reely?

Today I was having one of those moments of wrestling with my own emotions, and was pretty distraught over a situation, so I called my brother Patrick. He answered the phone and I asked him if he was busy. "Busy fishing," he said.

"Oh, are you with people? Is this not a good time to talk?"

"No I'm fishing alone."

Me: "Is that safe??!"

He thought that was ridiculous and therefore hilarious. I proceeded to tell him many reasons why fishing alone could be dangerous, but he laughed it off. He has hooked his finger with a fishing lure before. Just sayin'.

Here's Patty (2nd cutie pie from the left) fishing with his friends--the SAFE way:

Here comes the beep, you know what to do

Sometimes checking my messages is the most entertaining part of my day. I just came home to the following four messages:

1. My brother Patrick, asking if I want to go to a Royals game in June.

2. Patrick again, with his wife Jenny, the two of them saying "please call us, please call us, please call us" in varying voices, finishing with a giggle from Jenny.

3. Mom, saying she just got done volunteering at the Festival of Books, where she met Bob Barker and told him "God bless you." Then she said, "I'm waiting for the bus, here comes a bus but it's not mine, oh! A Previa! Love you, bye!"

4. Brad, calling for Dibbs. "Dibby? This is Uncle Brad. I just wanted you to know that Mommy's on her way home, I'm following her right now, she'll be there soon. Did you survive the storm? Dibbs? We were nervous too, we had a radio ready. Mommy'll be there soon. Bye Dibby."

Milk-Bone

When we were younger, my grandparents had a dog, and they had a box of Milk-Bones for him in their mud room. My brother Patrick told me they were ice cream treats, vanilla ice cream covered in chocolate. He said there was a picture of a dog on the box because they were shaped like dog bones. I asked my grandmother if I could have a Milk-Bone and she said, "Oh Honey, you don't want one of those" and all the adults laughed at me. Thanks, Patrick. Always looking out for me.